In Fire Lies Redemption
by Marz1
Summary: After several near death experices, Harry takes drastic measures and seeks advice from a disembodied dog. London is plagued with Dementors and Death Eaters, and the muggles are up in arms. Conspiracies abound and even at Hogwarts evil is gaining ground.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and scenery; I just made up the plot and some of the villains. I have no money, so please don't sue me.  

Attention: This is a 6th year story so it has spoilers for all the other books.

Reviews are appreciated, thanks!  

************

In Fire Lies Redemption

Prologue: The Warehouse

By Marz

            They marched silently through the twisting alleys of the slum. Decrepit buildings loomed on either side. Hidden beings watched from broken windows. The leader of the group held up his hand, signaling the other seven to stop. He pulled a roll of parchment from his sleeve.

            "Lumos," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a faint blue light revealed the map he held. They circled about him, cloaks wrapped tight against the damp predawn air.

            "The disturbance was centered in the building around the next corner. The Seer in the Department of Mysteries couldn't give us any more detail than very big and very dark magic. They didn't bother to shield their spell either. That could mean a few things. Most likely is they did whatever they've done and disapparated; it could also be a trap so if I say get out, you wait for nothing and no one, just go.    Erickson, Greensford, Davis, McCube since you're from DMLE I want you to hang back and guard the doors.  You haven't been trained to fight dark wizards, so any one and anything that comes out of that building you stun; I don't care if its one of us, or the minister of magic himself, you take out any one who tries to leave. Under stood?"

            Four members of the group nodded obediently. 

            " Tonks," he continued "You're with me. Smith and Blicksberry, you're second team. We're going right, you're circling from the left. Report anything odd. Every one stay focused. Any Questions?"

            There were none.

            "Lets move then."

            The group circled the corner and stood before the warehouse. Tonks stumbled over a pile of rubbish as she looked up at it. It was a towering ancient looking thing of rusted metal and concrete. Layers of filth dulled the few unbroken windows. Ravens flapped and resettled themselves on the crumbling rain gutters and cawed almost timidly. 

The eight wizards raised their wands in unison and cast an anti-disapparation ward. The officers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement marched off, one to guard each side. Shacklebolt tore the layer of caution tape from the door. The two teams entered and split up, wands at the ready. Greensford sealed the door behind them.

            The building contained only a few small offices, which they found empty. The rest of the warehouse was one cavernous room, with stalagmites of crates rising overhead. Faint grey light floated through the skylights, catching a thin trail of smoke in the center of the room.  Shacklebolt whispered a new command into a seashell in the palm of his hand and then held it to his ear. Instead of the ocean he heard the other Aurors respond. Smith and Blicksberry were circling the outer edge of the room. Tonks and Shacklebolt waited, giving them time to get in position. They would come in from one side, he and Tonks the other. If anyone remained at the source of the smoke, they would be surrounded. 

            Shacklebolt nodded and started forward. Tonks followed a few paces behind. They turned the corner and she slipped, landing on her hands and knees in a huge puddle. He pulled her to her feet. Her robes clung to her, soaked. Tentatively she pulled a handful of cloth to her nose; it was sour and coppery. 

            "S' blood." She said in her quietest whisper.

            Shacklebolt merely nodded and continued on, his boots sending ripples through the liquid. They came upon a large area free of crates, and found the source of the smoke. A chard corpse knelt against a smoldering forklift. Its hands curled together against its chest in a silent plea. On the floor around it lay five other still forms. Smith and Blicksberry appeared out of the crates on the other side of the clearing. They all moved in to investigate. 

Tonks turned over one body and found it had been completely eviscerated. Shacklebolt went to inspect the pair lying in the center of the gruesome scene. A tall woman, face hidden by dark curly hair, lay sprawled over the chest of a dead man.  The man had a hole in the center of his forehead, a trail of blood leaked slowly from it.  He recognized the wound. It was not caused by magic, but by a muggle fire arm.    Smith started to turn one of the bodies when the arm he grabbed came off. Despite his years of experience he yelped in surprise. The sound echoed like a bomb going off.   Shacklebolt was leaning over the corpses when Smith shouted. He jumped back in reflex. Just as he did the dead woman moved. Her head jerked up as if suddenly waking, her face was spattered in blood. The rage in her eyes was enough to make him take another step away and raise his wand. She leapt to her feet, drawing the attention of all the Aurors. Shacklebolt noticed the woman was nearly equal to his height. 

            "Just calm down miss." said Shacklebolt coolly. She wore baggy muggle clothes, but her eyes were strange. Something about her screamed magic. Her eyes darted around the circle. Her hand blurred in sudden motion. There was a sheen of metal in her hand and a moment later Blicksberry was stumbling backwards, a hilt sticking out of his chest. The woman bowled him over, ducking and dodging curses as the Aurors pursued. 

"Smith, stay with him, call St. Mungos!" Shacklebolt pulled the shell from his pocket, and called the DMLE's at the perimeter.  "We've got an Auror down and there's some thing running for it, type unknown. Current form; a very tall, dark haired women in muggle clothes. Confirm?"     

McCube, Erickson, and Greensford affirmed one after the other but Davis missed his turn to answer. 

"Davis, can you hear me?" 

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

 Shackleblot tore the shell away from his ear; the screaming was incredibly loud even as he held it at arm's length.  He ordered the others to Davis' side of the building. A minute later he burst out the door, Tonks on his heels. The street was empty.

Tonks lifted her wand. "Point me!" she ordered. The wand jerked around suddenly and twisted her arm towards a rubbish bin. Davis lay on the other side. His hands pressed to his face, blood ran between his fingers. She leaned over and shook his arm.

"My eyes, oh." he moaned weakly.

"You'll be all right, Medi-witches are on the way..." she trailed off as she saw movement on the roof across the street. "Kingsley!" she shouted pointing. He turned just in time to see her disapparate.

Nymphadora Tonks stumbled as she landed on the roof. She wind-milled her arms to get better balance on the moderately slanted surface. 

_It's almost as bad as the warehouse._ She thought. Rows of peaked skylights and chimneys created a plethora of hiding places. The horizon glowed faintly red, but the light was not helpful. Tonks scrunched her forehead in concentration, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again the world was black, white, grey and perfectly well illuminated. _Good thing I watched all those muggle science programs with dad, who'd have thought being color blind could help you see in the dark?_       She stepped around the first chimney, wand raised. _Nothing there_. Her feet made tiny metallic clangs as she walked. She worked her way up and down the roof, finding nothing. She was almost to the end of it when she flushed her quarry.  As she circled a chimney some thing moved in the corner of her eye. She whirled.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The tall women flew backwards in a burst of red light, slamming into a skylight with a loud cracking sound. A switchblade flew from her hand in a graceful arc. Tonks surprised her self by catching it with out getting cut. Tonks walked toward her carefully, she could see her face now, pale and wide with innumerable bits of metal pinned through her ears, eyebrows, nose and even a ring through her lower lip. Her eyes were oddly square, the dark irises speckled with white dots. They darted about nervously in her head as Tonks approached. 

"Who are you?" the women demanded in an improbably young voice.

"I'm Auror Tonks. You're under arrest."

The woman leaned back against the skylight.

"Put up your hands." she ordered.

The woman slowly lifted her arms upward, but just as they came even with her chest she slammed her elbows back. The skylight shattered and she fell backwards in a rain of glass. Tonks rushed to the edge and saw the woman scramble to her feet, staggering away. 

"STUPEFY."

The woman was knocked sprawling by the jet of red light and did not rise.

Tonks searched the pockets of her robe and found her speak-shell. She called Shacklebolt. 

"I've got her."         


	2. Guns Without Roses

            Disclaimer: I own nothing and have very little money.  What little I have I just used to buy OOTP and a bunch of Harry Potter stationary. Please don't be mad at me Ms. Rowling. Every one knows they are your characters. 

Warning: Spoilers for all HP books, character deaths and some down right unpleasant situations for our hero.

Reviews please!

In Fire Lies Redemption

By Marz

Chapter 1

Guns Without Roses

The chain was rusty and it creaked every time he moved. His feet scratched little trails in the dust as he swung slowly back and forth. The sun beat on him and sweat trickled down his face and back, but he could not leave. It was only noon. _She still might come_, he thought, then sighed. Harry Potter was used to boring, frustrating, even terrifying summer vacations. He was also used to solitude and isolation, so he never would have imagined himself waiting three hours in a broken down play ground under the blistering sun on the off chance that an almost stranger might decide to walk her dogs.  _I have to talk to someone though, or I'm going to forget how.   _

Every once in a while he would sit up straighter in the swing and look about, trying to home in on the eyes he knew were watching him. _ I suppose I should be grateful they don't follow me around inside the house; I'd never be able to shower._ The guard the Order had assigned to him never had introduced him or her self, and whoever it was had ignored all Harry's attempts at small talk. _At least if they won't talk to me they can't tell me to stay inside.  He heard a dog bark, and his heart jumped. He half expected to see a huge black furred monster of a dog come bounding into the park, but then a short, brown haired girl tottered through the gate, followed by two German Shepherds._

"Hey Joan!" Harry shouted, wincing as his voice cracked a little.

  Joan hobbled up the small hill towards him, taking short stiff steps. Her leg braces creaked with each unsteady stride. Her upper body swung about in an attempt to balance, flinging her hair into her eyes.  Both of the dogs yipped like puppies, though they were grey around the snout. She smiled at him and waved her too short hands. It still made Harry's stomach turn slightly, looking at what was left of her fingers. She never went into detail about why they all were missing just after the knuckle, so he didn't pry. 

 "Hey Harold, I just got the coolest thing in the mail, guess what?"

She waited approximately half a second before continuing. "It's the new transistors I was telling you about, and some antenna components! My short-wave is going to have five times the range!"

Joan went on to describe a detailed assembling process, pausing long enough to hand Harry a Frisbee, which he threw for the dogs. For the next twenty minutes she talked. By the end of her monologue she could have been speaking a different language. When she looked at him he nodded, trying to look interested. 

She was not really a substitute for Ron and Hermione, the friends he likely would not see until the school year resumed, but she was friendly, and seemed oblivious to the fact that he had told her nothing meaning full about himself. She also apparently bought all the half truths and out right lies he told her about his school, hobbies and family. He still regretted telling her he liked to fly kites. He had started to say brooms, and his cover up was just about the lamest pursuit a teenager could partake in. Joan didn't seem to hold it against him though. She told him a long and bizarre story about how a boy in her second grade class had electrocuted himself flying a kite into some power lines, and supposedly gained the ability to guess anyone's birthday, give or take a week. Harry could not tell if she was being nervous or just really liked the sound of her own voice.   Even if they never talked about anything important at least she would talk to him, unlike his relatives.  

       After Moody threatened them at the train station they had not said a word to him. A list of chores was left pinned to his door every morning, and dinner was served at seven thirty, whether he was present or not. If he attended the meal they would ignore him, standing and walking around the table rather then asking him to pass the rolls. After a week of the silent treatment he was becoming dependent on pointless conversations with a strange crippled teenager he met at the jungle gym.

            "So did you want to see it then?" She was starring at him.

            "Of course." he answered instinctively.  

            "I'll probably have it finished by this afternoon. Did you see that on the news last night, a gas explosion in London? I don't know why they don't check for that sort of problem more often, there was a gas explosion the week before that too. I think they've got a big problem with all the pipes. They've all rotted out or something. They're probably trying to cover it up so they won't have to pay for replacing them. What do you think?"   

            I _think Voldemort is making his move and I'm stuck here. I think death eaters are going to start murdering people left and right and the Ministry of Magic will do nothing to stop them. I think the Order of the _Phoenix___ is doomed if they expect me to save the world when I couldn't even save one man.  I think you should go home and stock up on canned food, and dig escape tunnels in your back yard, he thought. He shrugged and mumbled "maybe"._

            He looked across the park to the rows and rows of identical houses on every side of them, stretching to the horizon. 

"Joan what do you think happens to people, when they die?" Harry asked quietly.

            She did not look at all surprised by the question. "I guess they go on, to heaven or purgatory or whatever, maybe reincarnation, though I'd hate to come back as a goldfish or a potato or anything odd like that. As I see it where you go is the big mystery, but I am sure people go somewhere. Why'd you ask? Feeling ill?"  

            "No, I just wanted to know what you thought."

            The afternoon wore on and Harry started to get hungry. Joan was trying to get her dogs to throw the Frisbee to her.

            "Like this." she said to the two silent animals. Harry's mouth dropped open in amused horror as she put the filthy plastic disc in her own mouth and twisted her head sharply. The Frisbee sailed a few feet. The dogs looked confused for a few seconds then one of the dogs, Pickles his name might have been, but Harry honestly could not tell them apart, snapped up the Frisbee. Joan was almost giddy with anticipation but then the other dog, Spencer, bit the edge of it and they played tug of war. 

            "I don't think they're ever going to get it." she sighed.

            "Maybe they just didn't want to get your germs." said Harry, grinning slightly. "I can't believe you put that in your mouth. It had dog drool all over it."

            "Dogs have cleaner mouths then people."

            "Then you, maybe."

            She laughed, and checked her watch.

            "Oh no! It's almost two, I promised dad I'd have the phone hooked up again by now. I was only going to put in a splitter in the upstairs hall, for my computer's modem, so I wouldn't have to keep changing the plug you know? But now I'll have to, oh no! I've got to go now. See you later Harold."

            She took off at a fast walk whistling for her dogs as she went. They ran after her both still chomping on the Frisbee. She waved goodbye as she turned out of the gate. Harry jogged back to number 4 Privet Drive, feeling a bit better and hoping there was some thing edible in the refrigerator.

            He found a note on the kitchen counter.

                        Dear Dudleykins,

Mummy and Daddy had to run out to a lunch meeting with a very important client. We should be back around seven. We'll bring you some thing special for dinner. One night off your diet couldn't hurt. We're so proud of you by the way. See you this evening Popkin.

Love,

Mum

            Harry smiled and went about fixing a quick meal. Dudley was out with his gang, and probably would not be back all afternoon, which meant Harry could watch the television and use the phone undisturbed. 

Harry tried calling Hermione but only got her answering machine. He sighed, grabbed the remote, and flopped onto the couch, settling his decomposing sneakers on one of aunt Petunia's embroidered pillows. The 5 o'clock news was just getting over when there was a knock at the door. _I must have locked Dudley out_, he thought as he walked into the hall way.     

            Harry stood on his toes and looked out the peep hole. Dudley's sweaty distorted face blotted out the rest of the porch. He looked sick. _Smoked a few too many with Malcolm, he thought. Harry was reaching for the knob when Dudley shouted._

            "Open the door Potter!" His voice was shaking and desperate. Harry undid the lock and it swung slowly open. Dudley stood before him oddly stiff. His eyes darted about. 

            "What's your problem?" Harry asked when Dudley made no move to enter.

            "That would be me." drawled a cool voice.

            Casually, Draco Malfoy stepped from behind the enormous teenager. Malfoy was dressed in muggle cloths. He sneered in a very superior manner. He was holding a very large gun. Harry's hand darted to the wand in his pocket but Malfoy, for once in his life, moved quicker. The barrel was pressed to Dudley's temple and the resounding click of the hammer froze Harry. 

            "That's not very polite Potter." Malfoy drawled. "Your cousin has just invited us in for tea, why don't you put your hands on your head and step aside there."

            Harry looked at Malfoy who was absolutely glowing with triumph, then at Dudley. _If it were me with a gun to my head, he'd let me die. But if they come inside then Dumbledore's spell should protect us. No harm in the house where my mother's blood dwells, that was it wasn't it? Please let that be it_. Harry obeyed. 

Dudley entered first, Malfoy close behind.  From the bushes on either side of the door Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode appeared, all dressed as muggles. They walked into the house smirking. None of them had a wand at hand. Millicent shoved Harry against the wall, searched him with excessive thoroughness and took his wand from him as well. Harry and Dudley were marched into the kitchen.

"Family doesn't like you much, do they Potter?" said Malfoy, inspecting the pictures as they passed through the house.

Harry shrugged_. The Order's guard should have spotted something wrong by now. Dumbledore himself is on the way. I'll I've got to do is stall._

As if reading his mind Malfoy spoke. "No one's coming to help you Potter. Your babysitter met with an unfortunate accident a few minutes ago, and the Dark Lord is hiding us from any prying magic. You're going to die today."

Harry snorted, and slouched a bit, trying hard to simultaneously look cool and not vomit. "If you planned to kill us you shouldn't have insisted on coming in, things have a nasty way of reflecting in my home."

Malfoy sneered and began to pace the room. "Reflecting off you maybe, but the Dark Lord has found a way around all that. Dumbledore's spells only protect you from magical harm.  Muggle weapons will work just fine. You know, I'm actually growing rather fond of this 'gun'. Your babysitter made such a funny face when I shot her. We're going to kill the rest of your family first, by the way, just to make sure all those blood spells are gone." 

He stopped his pacing a meter in front of Dudley, who let out an odd choking sound as Malfoy leveled the gun at his heart.

"Any last words for Potter, muggle?" 

"This is all your fault." mumbled Dudley.

The hammer clicked. Harry moved. He slipped a bit on the overly waxed kitchen floor as he ran. His fingers closed around Malfoy's wrist. Crabbe and Goyle were shouting mutedly in the background. His momentum carried him between Dudley and the gun. 

The cracking noise rattled the windows.

There was a hot feeling across his stomach. Harry sank to his knees, the sound still echoing in his ears. He looked up at Malfoy, who seemed momentarily surprised, but that expression was washed away by a sinister grin. 

"The Dark Lord is always right Potter. Does it hurt?" 

Harry looked down. The front of his baggy grey shirt was soaked with blood, and more was seeping onto his pants and spattering the floor. The room and every one around him seemed to be rapidly backing away. The walls looked as if they were stretching out. It felt as if he was sinking into the floor. He put his hand to the wound in his stomach.

"No, it doesn't," he answered. 

"This one might." Malfoy pressed the barrel, still burning hot, to the scar in the center of Harry's fore head.

**************

The air in the room was just a little too warm, decided Remus Lupin as he shook himself awake for the tenth time. Whenever he looked at the maps the lines blurred. _I slept for ten hours last night, I can't be this tired, he though miserably. But he was always tired lately. The bizarre feverish hope that had gotten him on his feet three years earlier had faded to almost nothing. He had known Voldemort would return, even that night, when he had gone to Ministry with Albus, the night he had seen the scorched physical remains of that thing, he knew it would return. But he had never expected for Sirius to come back as well. He never expected so many to come to the Order's call. All the unexpected goodness, that was the terrible part. It built up a bridge that collapsed out from under him. _Miracles must feed on things like irony and misery, or maybe it's the other way around. This moping isn't getting any work done._   He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.__  I'll just rest my eyes for a second, just long enough for the gritty feeling to go away. He slumped slowly backward in his chair._

"Remus close the door, the carpet will be ruined."

Rain dribbled through the leaking shingles of the porch, splashing in the door way. 

"There's something in the yard mum."

He stood in the door way of the cottage, watching the shining eyes, half hidden in the hedges. _Not this again. Wake up. But his seven year old self did not respond. The boy just carried him around behind his eyes, repeating the same foolish mistakes._

"Mum, there's something in the yard. It's watching me. Come look."

"Close the door, I'll have a look in a minute." his mother called from the kitchen.

"Romulus, come look."  

_No don't look, please don't look_.  Something in the dream was different this time. It took him a moment to catch on. His twin brother walked up to the door, but nothing charged out of yard. The wolf did not tear into Remus, dislocating his arm and opening his throat. It did not turn and kill Romulus when he tried to pull it off his brother. His mother did not come running from the kitchen only to be attacked herself.  She did not kill it with a silver blade she summand from the kitchen, and then bleed to death, her eyes staring blankly at him. The wolf did not come. 

Seven year old Remus walked into the yard, the details of it blurry and indistinct. He knew his brother was walking with him. 

"Neither of you should be here." said Romulus. 

Something moved in the darkness, approaching slowly.

"You shouldn't come here; it's not supposed to be this way. The door is closed." said Romulus.

Remus looked at him in confusion. _His eyes are too old, Remus though. The thing came closer, ambling slowly on four legs. Out of the darkness a huge black dog appeared. Its light blue eyes looked at him pleadingly._

"You have to go." Romulus said to the dog.

It whined.

"He says he won't go unless I tell you," Romulus said quietly, "So I guess I must. He says 'Go to him he needs you.'" 

The dog whined again.

"He says wake up."

***************

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!

The sound echoed through the house as if the world's most decrepit hinges were being turned. Everyone but Harry instinctively looked toward the living room. Harry shoved the gun away and tried to get up but his legs would not move, not even a little.  

"Go check it out." Malfoy ordered. Crabbe and Goyle nodded and marched out. He looked back at Harry.

"Can you move your legs? It doesn't look like it. I'll make you a deal Potter, if you can stand up for just three seconds, I'll let your cousin live, what do you say?"

Harry looked at him. He knew he was just playing stupid games, but stupid games wasted time. He nodded, and began dragging himself across the floor toward the kitchen counter. The feeling did not return as he crawled, but maybe he could prop himself up some how, buy them a few more minutes. Crabbe and Goyle returned. One stood on either side of Dudley, who was watching him with a very confused expression.

"The door blew shut." said Crabbe. They both laughed at Harry as he pulled himself along. He reached up and caught the edge of the counter. His vision went black for a moment, but he did not let go. He pulled, arms shaking and brought his chest even with the counter top. He braced his arms on the counter and turned toward Malfoy. His legs shook horribly as he put his weight on them. They were rubbery, but they did not fall out of under him. He lifted his hand free to show he was standing on his own.

"One, two, three." He choked out. Something hot and wet was running out his mouth and down his chin.

"Oh that's cheating, it doesn't count." said Millicent. Harry had never heard her talk before.

"You're right. Shame on you Potter, Cheating!" Malfoy admonished. He started across the room, his eyes gleaming, but they darted into the hallway as he walked passed it.

"Wha..?"

His surprised question was cut off as Joan leapt at him, grabbing for the gun. They fell and rolled across the floor. Crabbe and Goyle started forward. Crabbe turned in confusion as something caught his sleeve. Dudley's fist collided with Crabbe's jaw, which popped. He slumped boneless to the floor. Goyle was on Dudley a moment later and the two huge teenagers grappled. The table went over, and a very ugly vase smashed in jagged ceramic shards. Millicent knocked Harry down and rushed to help Malfoy, but Harry grabbed her ankle, tripping her. His wand fell from her hand. She tried to kick him away but he did not let go. Malfoy shouted in pain as he and Joan rolled through the remains of the vase. He slammed her against the floor but she would not release her hold on the gun. He let go of her with one hand, raising his fist, but she let go with one hand as well. Joan grabbed up a shard of ceramic and slashed across Malfoy's face. He howled in pain and she kicked him away. She scrambled to her feet, and fired a shot into the ceiling. Every one froze, and stared.

"You, girl, get away from Harold. Go over there." Joan waved the gun toward the far side of the kitchen where Crabbe lay. Millicent scrambled to obey. She aimed the gun at Goyle next. 

"You go stand next to her, and you!" she said pointing at Malfoy.

She kept the gun pointing at them, but turned to Dudley. "Go call and ambulance and the police!" He obeyed as well, rushing to the phone in the hall. She tottered across the kitchen to Harry who lay on his back. Her braces creaked with every step. Just as she reached him Malfoy moved. He grabbed something from his pocket. Joan shrieked and the gun went off. It blew a large hole in an empty wall. The four attackers had disappeared. Joan looked nervously about, then with a huge creaking knelt at Harry's side. 

"Harold stay awake, alright? Your brothers calling the ambulance, all you have to do is stay awake. Can you hear me? Say something!" She put the gun on the floor and shook his shoulders. "You're supposed to put pressure on a wound right?"

_Why are you asking me?_

"I'm going to try that, tell me if it gets better or worse." She pushed her palms down hard on the wound. He screamed, and so did she. Dudley ran in, the phone dragging along behind him by the cord. 

"Where'd they go?" he shouted, looking at the space that had recently been vacated.

"They just disappeared! Is that the ambulance on the phone, tell them he's bleeding a lot. Tell them he's been shot, tell them!"

 _Stop shouting, its making my head hurt_, he thought. As if obeying their voices began to fade. A new sound entered his ears, a faint rhythmic clicking. He looked past Joan and Dudley who were alternately screaming into the telephone. Just inside the back door, was the monstrous black dog. It walked toward him, toenails clicking against the tiles, its head lowered. It sniffed at the blood on the floor. The dog circled Dudley and Joan and they took no notice of it.  It stopped right by his shoulder and looked into his eyes. It looked terribly sad.

_Hey snuffles_. He thought, trying to reach up and pet the animal. His hand wouldn't move. _Do I get to go with you this time? _The dog whined. The lights blinked out.   


	3. Rest without Peace

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, we all know this. I make no money from this story or any other story, so please don't sue. 

Warning: All kinds of spoilers! There is a ton of violence and a little swearing. You have been warned.

Just thought I should mention, this story assumes you've read the other books so I don't go into long descriptions of characters that JKR has already described, to avoid being repetitive. Good idea? Bad idea? Let me know!

Thank you Azarius, for your review, and Society too of course! More reviews are always welcome!

In Fire Lies Redemption

By Marz

Chapter 2

  Rest without Peace

            As he ran into the kitchen he bumped into the table and three surprised people looked up as their drinks splashed over. He stopped as if just noticing them. His eyes were wide and his hands shook.

            "Is something wrong Remus?" asked Molly Weasley, as she dabbed at the table with a napkin. Though usually the definition of organized, Remus looked as if had just woken up, after being thrown out of a window. 

            "I have to, its, its, I had a..." He could not seem to form a sentence. His mouth began to work soundlessly.

            "Have a drink then." said Tonks offering up a tanker of mead.

            "No I can't." He took a long deep breath before asking "Has Marcia Count reported anything strange today?"

            The three other members of the Order of the Phoenix exchanged concerned looks. Marcia was one of the most recent additions to their group. She had been sent to watch over Harry Potter incase he left the protection of his house. Her shift had started two hours ago. Molly looked at the disheveled man for a moment, then stood up.

            "Remus, dear why don't you sit down for a moment and tell us about it?"

             "I've just got a very bad feeling. Does anyone have a linked mirror? I dropped mine in the hall." Remus said, still standing.

            Another round of concerned looks were exchanged. _He's coming apart_, thought Tonks as she reached into her pocket. _Poor bloke isn't himself anymore. "I'll check in with her. Marcia Count." she said clearly into the surface of the mirror. For a moment the vapor of her breath obscured it, then evaporated to reflect her own face.  "Oh hell."_

            The other members all tried their mirrors to no effect.

            "I'll get Dumbledore." said Dedalus Diggle. A moment later he disapparated from the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place.  

            The rest of the Order raised their wands in silent agreement and transported themselves to Number Four Privet Drive.  

**********

            "Mrs. Dursley I must speak with your son. The sooner I do that, the sooner we will leave." Remus had managed to calm himself in the twenty minutes it took to put memory charms on the police and send them on their way. Mrs. Dursley had been less then pleased with his arrival and gave a very brief synopsis of the incidents of that evening. She did not seem to know much. Her nephew had been shot and there was a mess in the kitchen. Her son had been threatened and attacked.  An ambulance had taken Potter away. She did not know where, it had gone before she arrived. The boy was alive last she heard. Remus wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her.

Molly and Tonks were searching the neighborhood for Marcia. He was glad Molly had not come inside. His eyes strayed from Petunia Dursley's pinched angry face to the dark stains that crossed he floor and counter tops.

            "You're not getting anywhere near my son. That. That old," she paused, recalling the reaction of other wizards to the defacement of Albus Dumbledore, "man promised we'd be safe here if I took that boy in. He promised your kind couldn't come near us. They were in my house! They attacked my son! That boy is never coming back here!"

            "Mrs. Dursley if it were up to me Harry would never have to see you again, but that is not something I control. I can tell you, however that Harry will not return here until next summer at the earliest. I need to know which hospital he was sent to. If Harry dies in the time I've wasted here, trying to be civil, you will live to regret it"

            Mrs. Dursley actually took the time to consider her options. Fear of magic did not cow her the way it did her husband.  "You may speak to him for five minutes, and then you will leave or I will summon the police again."

 Remus nodded and followed her into the living room where her husband and son were occupying the sofa. Vernon Dursley looked at him with equal parts fear and anger, but for once did not speak. He exchanged glances with his wife, who jerked her head sharply. 

            "Dudleykins," she said softly, "Which hospital did they send him too?"

            Dudley Dursley seemed more confused then usual, and for once he was not trying to hide from Remus, despite the fact that he was dressed in wizards' robes, with his wand in hand.

            "They didn't tell me." He said quietly. He continued before Remus could interrupt. "She said she would call when they got there."

            "Who's she?" Vernon asked sharply.

            "That crippled girl, the one that lives on Rosewood Lane. Don't know her name, she went in the ambulance. She didn't want him to go by himself."

            "What was she doing here?" demanded Vernon. "Is she one of them?"

            Dudley shrugged. "Don't think so. She and Potter hang around the park, with her dogs. He must have invited her over. She tackled the blond boy with the gun, I told you before dad."       

            Vernon muttered something about not hearing that part. Remus' mind whirled. Harry had not mentioned any new friend in the letters he sent, but it seemed unlikely that a muggle girl was in any way connected with Voldemort. _But even if she is trying to help we can't afford to wait for her call. _

"Do you have a listing of local hospitals?" Remus asked.

Petunia looked incredibly put upon, but went and fetched a phone book. She held it out to him with the very tips of her fingers, as if afraid of contamination.  He flipped through it, quickly finding the section he needed.  As she glared intensely, he tore the pages from the book, and tossed it back to her. "Thank you Mrs. Dursley. Hopefully we will not see each other again." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" 

He turned slightly wary as Dudley stood and searched his pockets. The rotund teenager withdrew a long piece of slightly scared wood, and gave it to Remus. 

"Thank you." said Remus with actual sincerity as he accepted Harry's wand.

 As he walked through the kitchen and out the back door he cast a cleaning charm. Harry's blood was not something they could afford to leave lying around. Tonks and Molly were waiting outside with Harry's trunk and owl cage, as well as another small black box. He recognized the box, and knew what it would contain.

"She was in the side yard. They threw the invisibility cloak over her, but the blood soaked through, else we might not have found her," said Tonks quietly. She carefully put the box into her coat pocket, then shrunk Harry's luggage and put that away too.

"Where is Harry?" asked Molly her voice shaking with anger and anxiety.

"They don't know. There are four hospitals in the area. We need to dress as muggles, and find him as quickly and quietly as possible. Apparently there is a muggle girl with him; they referred to her as crippled.  Molly, can you get Fred and George to help us search?"

"Of course, I'll be right back." With a flick of her wrist and a loud crack she was gone.

"Was it bad in there?" asked Tonks.

"There was so much blood I can hardly believe he's still alive, but he would have said something if…" Remus trailed off.

"Who would have said something?"  

"Nothing. Never mind." 

They waited the next few minutes in silence. Then the air was split with not three, but four resounding cracks. Molly, Fred, George, and Ron Weasley stumbled a bit as they landed. Molly looked more then a little furious and Ron was equally red in the face.

"Didn't know you were licensed to apparate Ron." said Tonks.

"He isn't and if he leaves an arm somewhere he is walking back to get it." said Molly. Ron just shrugged.

Remus handed out the pages from the phone book. Fred and George took the first, Molly and Ron the second and Tonks the third. With a final blast of noise the wizards abandoned Privet Drive.

********

   Ron was trying very hard not to stare. The large room was absolutely horrifying. People hunched in uncomfortable orange plastic chairs, trying to fill out huge blocks of paper work. Some seemed barley able to write. Others held towels to bleeding wounds or attempted to protect injured limbs from the doctors and paramedics rushing dizzily about the crowded space. Everyone edged away from an old man whose cough sounded very contagious. A woman was wheeled through on a stretcher, moaning, and disappeared though a swinging double door. It was like some Dark Age torture chamber. Ron pulled on his mothers arm and they advanced a few steps towards the front desk. They had been in the line half an hour and it was a quarter more before they reached the secretary. The fat, worn looking woman handed them a clip board and forms and tried to wave them aside. 

"No wait!" said Ron as a man with an obviously broken arm tried to get around them. "I'm looking for someone."

"I can't give out information about a patient unless you are a family member with written proof of kinship. Please step aside." said the woman in a toneless voice.

"His name is Harry Potter. He was shot. Please we just need to know if this is the right hospital. His fool cousin didn't ask where they were taking him." said Mrs. Weasley.

"I can't give you information about a patient, please step aside." said the woman with no more expression then before.

"Well he might not be a patient. Why don't check on your little computerizer and tell us if he's not a patient, then we can go look else where." Molly Weasley was growing steadily more red as she spoke. And though Ron knew a temperamental explosion would not help the situation, he also knew he would be shouting right along side his mother if this kept up.  

"Please step aside or I will call security." 

"You do that!" Mrs. Weasley began, when someone suddenly tugged on her elbow. She and Ron both turned to see a short teenage girl with disheveled brown hair and a bruised face. Her clothes were splattered with blood, completely soaked red at the knees. Ron gapped in ill concealed horror, as she pushed her hair behind her ear. All of her fingers were only an inch long, each ending in puckered scar, as if someone had just chopped them off right before the first joint. Only her thumbs were still in tacked. She did not seem to notice Ron's blatant discomfiture.

"Did you say you were looking for Harold?"

"Harry Potter?" Ron asked hopefully.

"He's in surgery right now." Both Weasleys blanched. Seeing their fear she tried to reassure them. "The doctors said he was going to be fine. He lost a lot of blood, that was the biggest danger, but they gave him an I.V. in the ambulance and he woke up for a bit, though he wasn't really lucid. He kept trying to talk to a dog that wasn't there. Sniffles I think he called it. They did a quick series of x-rays and ultrasounds. The bullet punched a hole in his stomach and nicked an artery. There was some other little stuff, but they should have him sewed up and cleaned out in a couple of hours."

They stared at her for a moment in confusion, so she attempted to clarify.

"They had to clean out his chest cavity, the space between the organs, because a bunch of stomach acid had leaked out in there. He can't eat anything solid for a few weeks but they said he'll be all right, if there's no infection that is, but they're very clean here, so that probably won't happen, and he'll be given anti-biotics anyway."

Ron interrupted. "Excuse me, but who are you?" 

"Oh oops. I forgot. I'm Joan Madison." She held out her hand, and Ron took it very carefully. It was not even half the size of his own. 

"I'm Ron Weasley and this is my mum. I go to school with Harry."

Mrs. Weasley seemed too shocked to speak, but shook the girl's hand.

"Mum why don't you call everyone, we'll wait here. Alright?" His mother nodded numbly and walked out the door.

"Why don't we sit down somewhere?" asked Ron. 

"I was in the student observation room. They've got a camera hooked up to the operating room. There are some chairs and you can watch the doctors working."

Ron did not know if he really wanted to see, but he needed to sit. Apparating left him very dizzy. He nodded and followed her though a side door. She walked with strange wobbling steps and her legs emitted an unnerving creaking sound, as if they were in large part metal.  A series of wide screen televisions lined the walls, but only one was turned on. The blue tinted light showed men in white suits and face masks all leaning over a red square of wet looking stuff in the middle of pale white, all surrounded by blue sheets. The men were stabbing and prodding the red area.

"See they're stitching up the front of his stomach now, they've done the hole in the back already. That's Doctor McAllen. He's the one who let me in here. He removed my appendix when I was twelve, and there's hardly any scar. See?"

            She lifted up the edge of her shirt to show a thin white line. Ron stumbled to the waste basket in the corner as his dinner returned.

            "Oh." Joan said guiltily, "I'll get you some paper towels." He heard her creaking away. She returned a moment later with paper towels, a glass of water, and the Order of the Phoenix. 

            Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-eye Moody, Bill, Fred, George, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, Hestia Jones and Kingsley Shacklebolt marched into the tiny room. It became very crowded.

            "…not feeling well. Some people just don't do well in hospitals I guess." Joan was saying to Mrs. Weasley, as she handed the things to Ron.

            The wizards and witches all looked at the television screen in shock.

            "Good Merlin!" said Hestia, pressing a hand over her mouth.

            "That's Harry?" Ginny moaned.

            "For gods' sakes, some one scourgify that." growled Moody, pointing at the waste basket Ron was huddled by.

            "There's a muggle here Mad-eye." muttered Kingsley.

            "And there's a smell. We'll deal with her later." He flicked his wrist, muttering and the basket vanished.

            Joan stumbled over what she was saying to Remus as the spell was cast, but continued talking.

            "…and the door was just hanging open, so I walked up, and I was going to knock, but I heard someone talking, saying 'you're going to die,' and I thought it might have been the T.V., but I wanted to be sure so I went in. Then I heard the gun go off. I was going to call the police, but then my braces creaked and I hid because I heard them coming out of the kitchen. They went back and I followed them, and hid in the hall. That blond boy, he was making Harold crawl around on the floor, and there was blood every where. That boy said if Harold could stand up they wouldn't kill Dudley, and Harold did it, but then the boy said it didn't count and he walked right by me, and I didn't think there would be another chance so I jumped at him. It got a little confusing after that, and everyone was fighting, but I stabbed the blond boy with a piece of something off the floor and got the gun away from him. I ordered them all to stand in the corner, and Dudley went to call the ambulance, and..." she paused giving Moody an odd look from across the room. "The blonde boy grabbed something from his pocket and they all disappeared. Then the ambulance came and here we all are, so that's it I guess."  

            "Thank you for telling us. Thank you for helping Harry." Lupin said, shaking her hand, and giving Bill Weasley a little nod.  Joan was about to say something else when Bill touched the end of his wand to her temple and she collapsed into his arms. Hestia conjured up a couch and they set her to the side.

            "Thank Merlin," mumbled Ron. "Its great that she saved Harry but I don't think I could stand another minute of descriptions of muggle surgery. Doesn't know when to shut it, that one."

            "She's probably nervous." said Ginny, whose eyes were glued to the glowing television.

            "Never mind all that we have to get Harry out of there!" cried Mrs. Weasley. "He's being butchered!"

            "Molly if we interrupt them it will only get worse." Remus said, though he too was struggling to keep still. "Muggles are always doing this sort of thing. The girl was telling us Harry would be fine in a couple of weeks."

            "A wonder full expert on healing she is. Look at her Remus! She can barely walk. She's got no fingers! That could happen to Harry."

            "We're letting them finish Molly." said Kingsley. "I'm half blood. My muggle mother had surgery to deliver me. She was fine after. It's primitive and leaves nasty scars, but Harry will be alright."  Kingsley's voice calmed everyone in the room. "What we have to worry about is the fact that Harry is no longer under his family's protection or any magical protection at all. A few of the crueler dark tracking spells could find him easily. I've cast a muggle repelling charm on the door of this room so it will be our base within the hospital. Since Diggle has made no contact, we must assume Dumbledore has not been informed. I need every one who's trained for it to come out side with me right now, so we can cast and anti-apparation wards over the building. Moody, do you see any trouble yet?"   

            "No lad, but that doesn't mean there isn't any."

            "Let's move people. Come along Molly." 

            The room cleared quickly, leaving Ron and Ginny with an unconscious muggle in an eerily quiet room.  

            "She said Harry thought he was seeing Snuffles." Ron said quietly. "Do you think maybe it was a real Grim?"

            "Don't say things like that. Harry will be fine. If You-Know-Who couldn't kill him a little piece of metal won't."

            "And a little baby couldn't possibly hurt You-Know-Who."

********

            His eyes could not adjust to the light. No mater how much he squinted, his surroundings remained blurry shadows. The only thing he could definitely make out were the shiny reflections off the dogs eyes. It rested its head on his leg and stared at him. They sat together in the indistinct space, surrounded by silence. Every so often a point of light would appear off in the distance, and the dog would growl at it. The dog would not let Harry investigate.

            "I can't just stay here forever Snuffles." Harry said as the light became visible, off to his left this time. "That could be a way out." The dog growled. The light blinked out.

            Why didn't he turn back into Sirius? Harry wanted desperately to talk to him, to ask him how he got here, and if he knew how to get out, if he was angry that Harry had gotten him knocked through the veil. "Maybe that's not Sirius" whispered a little voice in the back of his mind. _But it has to be_. Harry though.

            The light appeared again, directly ahead of him.

            "I'm going to go look." He announced to the dog. It growled as he stood then whined as he got with in a few yards of it. It was a circle about a meter across. Close up it looked like a fogged up window and he could see something moving on the other side. The dog barked furiously as Harry put his hands in front of himself and pushed on it.   

            The darkness tore itself apart. Tiny scraps of shadow fluttered out of his vision as he landed in the living room of the cramped filthy apartment. With a resounding crack two robed figures appeared in the room. One moved to his right. The other took up her familiar place at his left. Though she was covered entirely from head to toe he could tell she had a look of intense anticipation on her face. The door knob rattled. He waved his hand and muttered a few words. 

The battered door swung open and a short unkempt man slinked into the room. A strong stench of liquor accompanied him. He looked about warily with droopy blood shot eyes, but saw nothing. The man walked toward the stained couch but suddenly stopped short. He jammed his hand into his pocket. Before he could arm himself a blue light struck him in the chest and a high cheerful voice filled the room.

            "Mundungus Fletcher, you have information for us." said Bellatrix Lestrange, as the invisibility spell was lifted. 

            To his credit the smuggler did not scream, or wet himself, or even flinch as the Dark Lord appeared before him.  Perhaps he was too surprised. 

"I've got nuthin' fer the likes a' you."  Fletcher said in a steady voice.

Harry Potter watched, trapped inside the monster's head as his former guard uttered his last coherent sentence. Lestrange cast a curse, a strange muttered spells that caused smoke to pour from beneath Fletchers' cloths. He howled in agony. The skin on the right side of his face turned to powdery ash.

Harry had not paid much attention to his Occlumency lessons, so he did not have any idea how to get back to his own body. If he could warn someone maybe Mundungus could be saved, but then he saw the dog in the corner. Like a pitcher of ice water thrown in his face, his memories returned. _I was shot in the stomach. I was lying on the floor of the kitchen. _Then a thought more horrible then the memories surfaced. _I could be dead and stuck here in the back of his mind. What if he notices me again?_ Harry flinched, and tried to think quietly, but he was not sure if that would help. Mundungus screamed again. _I have to do something. Maybe I can… _The screaming stopped.

Voldemort spoke. "There are three muggles coming to the apartment. Do not reveal yourselves until I command you."

The two Death Eaters nodded and vanished. Though Harry could not be certain from his perspective, he thought Voldemort had become invisible as well. A scratching sound came from the lock in the door, and a moment later it sprang open. The knob turned slowly and the door opened a sliver. A little mirror was held through, swiveling about to check the room. It was removed and three men entered, closing the door behind them. All three were wrapped up in long coats and hats, despite the summer heat. They all looked at Mundungus, lying still in the middle of the floor.  The tallest of them had a scarf wrapped around his entire face and head. Only his eyes were left showing, with black paint smudged around them and over the lids. He spoke and Harry realized he was a she.

 "Look carefully. Don't touch anything unless you have to," she said. The two others nodded, and went to search the kitchen and bed room. The woman knelt by Mundungus, and put a gloved hand to the side of neck. Skin and ashes crumbled off, and he jerked slightly. His eyes opened. 

They stared at each other and Harry could feel Voldemort's eagerness. He was certain the dying man would reveal something. 

The woman leaned forward and whispered into his decomposing ear. "Do you want this to end?"

"Mercy.." Mundungus gasped.

The woman's hand disappeared into her coat. So quickly Harry could barely follow the motions, the woman put a gun under his chin and squeezed the trigger. There was a flash of light and Harry screamed. Voldemort did not seem to notice the second voice in his mind. Drowning rage washed through him. The woman was blasted into the air by an unspoken curse and slammed into a book shelf, which toppled onto her. The two other men ran into the room. Both had guns, but they died in a flash of green light before they could even aim. Voldemort waved his wand and the woman rose into the air. Her feet kicked and her hands scrabbled at her throat, as if there were an invisible rope around her neck.

"Imperio." he hissed. "Tell me why you are here."

The steely expression in her eyes flickered for a moment.  Then they were vacant. "I am looking for the stolen ones. I heard there was one of your kind here."

Harry could see Voldemort's red eyes reflected in the women's blood shot hazel ones.

"Pointless." he hissed. He raised his wand and suddenly the woman's clothes were a blaze. She kicked as she hung in the air burning. She did not scream. The rest of the apartment was catching too. Bellatrix cast the dark mark, and it hung glowing in the center of the living room. The two Death Eaters looked at him in terror, knowing his anger was not yet sated. They raised their wands and disapparated.  Voldemort was about to do the same, but stopped suddenly.

"Potter." he hissed.

Harry tried to go back into the dark empty space, but could not find it. He buzzed about like fly trapped in a jar. The black hatred in Voldemort's mind closed in around him as he mentally scrambled for a way out. _Sirius help!_ He thought as suffocating darkness fell upon him.  Barking was the last thing he heard 


	4. Awake

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am poor.

Warning: Spoilers for all HP books and violence

Authors note: I very much appreciate reviews, good, bad, and ugly.

In Fire Lies Redemption

By Marz

Chapter 3

Awake

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

            For a long time that was the only sound. It echoed in his mind, mixing up all thoughts that attempted to form. It grew and faded in volume and sometimes in speed. Often the noise was so quiet and so far away he could almost ignore it, but it was never gone. He felt as if he had been left out under the sun with hundreds of blankets piled on top of him so he could not move. He was in pain, but he could not locate the source of it. It was in every part of him and no where all at once. 

            There was light all around him. He opened his eyes a little and it rushed in to burn them. There was a new sound, a soft mumbling. A hand brushed the hair off his forehead. His scar burned, and faintly he heard growling. He fell awake with a shudder. He squeezed his eyes closed against the brightness.

            "Harry?" asked a soft voice. It was just slightly louder then the beeping.

            _They have to know. I have to do something. The beeping was making him dizzy._

"They're burning." He heard himself croak. "…all of it's burning." 

            "Harry can you hear me?" A hand griped his. "Molly!" the voice hissed. "Molly he's coming out of it."

            "He didn't tell them though. She killed him before they were finished." Harry continued. He tried opening his eye but the lids just fluttered out of his control. "Sirius was mad…he didn't want me to go there. Burning!" he tried to make himself understood, but all that came out was garbled and disjointed. The beeping grew faster, its pitch increased.

            Another hand was on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. His scar seared each time it was touched. 

            "Stop. Stop." He whimpered. He tried to raise his arms to defend himself. They moved only a few inches and the left one stung horribly. 

            "Molly, Look at the scar!"

            "Oh Merlin! Remus we have to…"

            The voices were lost in the droning beeps.

            The room was orange and red when he opened his eyes again. The blinds were half closed and a high nervous voice was floating about the room.

            "…heard from Dudley he'd been shot. What happened? Is he going to be alright?"

            "He'll be fine. He just can't have visitors right now."

            "Oh. Could you give him these then? I figured, you know, he'd be kind of bored and those rooms are very depressing and all that…"

            "I will. I'll tell him you came by when he wakes up…."

            "Joan?" Harry called. 

            There was low muttering in the door way then a rhythmic creaking. Joan appeared at the end of his bed. She had fading bruises on her cheeks and chin, and a large box under her left arm. Remus Lupin stood at her right, half hidden by the swarm of metallic balloon in her hand.

            "Hey Harold, are you all right? What happened? How do you feel? Did they catch the guy? I brought you some stuff. Are you in witness protection or something? I know balloons are for little children, but they do make the room look less, well less grim. How'd you get away? Dudley was all beat up. He was giving me a funny look…"

            "You were there." Harry interrupted. Lupin was shaking his head and making odd hand gestures. He was trying to mouth something but Harry was feeling too groggy to even try to understand him. "You tackled Malfoy."

            "Harry's still a bit out of it," said Lupin. "He needs to rest."

            She set the box at the foot of Harry's bed and picked up his medical chart. "Wow, that's a lot of morphine!" she said. 

            "Yes," said Lupin, as he tried to steer her back towards the door. "He needs to sleep it off."

            "You erased her memory." stated Harry. Lupin looked guilty for a moment but kept shooing Joan towards the door. She looked a bit confused and her hand went to the purplish mark on her chin.

            "I'll come back later when you're feeling more awake. Goodbye Harold. Get better soon. Pickles and Spencer miss you. There're games in the box if you get bored! Bye!" she said as she and Lupin walked out the door and he closed it behind them. 

                Harry stared at the ceiling for a long time. Everything was blurred without his glasses on. The sunset colors faded from the room and Harry closed his eyes again. He felt as if there were a great weight pressing down on his chest; it seemed to get heavier as he drifted off again.

******

            He was nearly sprinting by the time he reached the castle. The headmaster had sent a very brief message by owl, but that short sentence had implied entire volumes of urgency. Remus crossed the threshold of the castle and received a scathing glare from the caretaker Mr. Filch, as he made a trail of muddy footprints up the nearest staircase. He was breathing heavily and had to say the password three times before the gargoyle guarding the staircase could understand the word "licorice."

            Albus Dumbledore was sitting calmly behind his desk when Remus entered the room. He was shuffling through a mountain of old scrolls but smiled warmly and waved toward one of the comfortable chairs across from him. Remus sat down.

            "Please tell me what's been happening, Remus." he asked in slightly tired voice.

            Remus told him all they had found. It took much longer then he had anticipated. Half an hour passed and he was not yet done.

            "…And the Ministry has been unable to locate any of the children in question. Mrs. Malfoy reported her son missing two days before the incident. We have finally been able to clear an area in St. Mungo's Hospital. We thought we had it yesterday, but then a Healer set off the sneak-scopes. He turned out to be the brother-in-law of Antonin Dolohov. Strings were pulled and he was removed. As soon as Harry is stable enough we can transfer him."

             Without a knock the door opened. Remus closed his mouth so fast his teeth clicked.

            "Headmaster I need a word with you as soon as possible." said Severus Snape in a low but slightly strained voice. Remus raised an eyebrow._ He must really be exhausted, doesn't even have the energy to insult me_, he thought. When Snape turned toward him he glared a bit, but said nothing. 

            "Sit down Severus, Remus was just finishing up his report. Please continue Remus." The ancient man said.

            Remus took a moment to remember where he had left off. "Harry is awake and improving daily. He had a vision while unconscious. He witnessed Mundungus being murdered." He paused for a moment as the Headmaster looked down and sighed.

            "Go on Remus." said Dumbledore.

            "Voldemort…" He was interrupted by a hiss from Snape.

            "Voldemort," he started again. "Bellatrix Lestrange and an unidentified Death Eater surprised Mundungus as he entered his apartment. He refused to give them information and was tortured. They were interrupted by three muggles. Harry was unsure why they were there. Thieves maybe. They concealed themselves from the muggles hoping something would be revealed.  One of them saw what was left of Mundungus and apparently decided to put him out of his misery. Voldemort failed to stop her in time. He killed the muggles and set the building on fire. Harry says Mundungus told them nothing before he died."

            Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is Harry certain there were three muggles?"

            "He seemed that way."

            "Most curious." The old man mumbled. He looked at Remus with a strange crooked gaze. "The Aurors that investigated the building were not members of the Order. I do not take their findings for granted, but I have no reason to doubt their ability to cast identity charms and collect evidence. I have a copy of their report you see and they found only three sets of remains in the apartment: Mundungus and two muggle men. Most curious."

            Remus did not know quite what he should say, but fortunately Snape broke the silence.

            "Headmaster, it is urgent…"

            "Of course. Remus is there anything else you would like to add to your report?"

            _I keep seeing my dead friend when ever I sleep. He tells me to do things. Yes I'll say that with Snape sitting right here. "No sir."_

            "Thank you for coming. Please inform me if the situation changes."

            Remus made to leave but stopped before the door. "Sir may I ask why you were unreachable four days ago when all of this was happening?"

            "You may." 

The old man sat watching him. The clock on the wall continued to tick and Remus looked in confusion at him, then at Snape who rolled his eyes. _It's a bit too long to be a dramatic pause. What could…_ He interrupted his own thoughts, and repressed the urge to slap himself on the forehead in frustration. __

"Why were you unreachable four days ago sir?" 

            "I found a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for next term. It took me quite a while to convince her to accept the position."

            Snape suddenly looked twice as tired. 

            "May I…" Remus stopped himself and began again. "Who is going to be teaching sir?"

            "You don't want me to ruin the surprise do you?" the old man said, smiling.

            "I'm not all that fond of surprises at the moment sir."

            Dumbledore sighed. "Young people, always so impatient. Ms. Gretchen Grace Graypond has bravely taken on the task."

            The name was familiar. Remus' mind whirled. He recalled her then. "But sir wasn't she killed almost sixty years ago?"

            "We've worked that out."

******

            Harry heard them coming up the hall, but they all got very quiet right outside the room. For a moment he was confused, and then the door burst open.  

            "HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" cried a multitude of cheerful voices.

            Ron and Hermione led the way, followed closely by all of the Weasleys, (except for Percy and Charlie), Professor Lupin, Tonks, and shyly, in the back Neville Longbottom. He was carrying a rather frazzled looking Hedwig on his shoulder.  All of them wore ridiculous hats and carried brightly wrapped packages. The owl flew across the room and landed on the bed post beside Harry.

            "It can't be my birthday." Harry started to say, but arguing seemed pointless. Bill conjured up chairs for everyone. Mr. Weasley started to sit down next to the heart monitor, but his wife glared at him until he moved a few chairs down. He had accidentally unplugged one a few days earlier while inspecting it. The steady beeps had been replaced by on low mournful note and ten muggle doctors had come running.  

            "How are you Harry?" asked Hermione. "I would have come sooner but I was with my parents in Spain." A worried expression crept over her face. Ron gave her a look and it immediately disappeared, fleeing a too wide smile.

            "Open my present first Harry, I promise it isn't a book." she said.

            "We have to have the cake first." said George.

            "He can't eat anything." hissed Ron.

            "We know," said Fred, "But we figure if we liquefied it we could put it in one of those."  He pointed at the I.V. going into the crook of Harry's left arm.

            "NO!" shouted Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Harry together.

            Fred and George both grinned. "We were only joking."

            "We did have an actual solution though." said George, taking a small box out of his pocket.

            "Invented it in your honor, Harry." said Fred.

            Harry took the box. Inside were ten very innocent looking sticks of gum. "What do they do?"

            "Yes, what exactly do they do?" said Mrs. Weasley in a very threatening manner.

            "No worries mum," the twins said, looking a little offended. "It's just birthday-cake flavored."

            "Thanks." said Harry.

            The party proceeded and despite the circumstances Harry really enjoyed himself. Everyone sang and he got to blow out the candles on a massive chocolate cake. He chewed the gum and everyone chatted happily as he opened presents. Hermione gave him a magical puzzle box that had, according to the pamphlet that accompanied it, "fifty compartments for storing your most valued treasures."  To open it one had to put their fingers on the right symbols on its surface, then twist and press properly. If all was done correctly a little door on the box would swing open, if not the symbols would change and the puzzle would get harder. 

            "There's another present inside already." Hermione said.

He started working on it right away, and immediately the patterns changed and got more complicated. For ten minutes he worked while people talked around him. _I might never get this open, he grumbled to himself. Then another thought occurred to him. _Wouldn't it be ironic though if Voldemort started dreaming about trying to get the box open every night_, Harry thought, as he had dreamed about the closed door.  He laughed out loud and everyone looked at him expectantly. Thinking they might not understand the humor in it he shrugged sheepishly._

"This is really great Hermione. I might never have time for homework trying to get this open."

She frowned, but Ron presented his gift before she could speak. Harry tore off the paper and opened the box. Three ordinary looking quills lay inside. He looked at his friend for an explanation.

"They're Parker's Patent Message Passing Quills. What you right with one the others write too, so we can discuss important things like Quidditch during class without getting caught. They've got a range of twelve leagues, so they should work anywhere in the castle."

Mrs. Weasley gave them a disapproving look, but did not comment. The twins gave Harry a large box of prank items, which Harry did not expose to Mrs. Weasley's unfriendly gaze. Bill gave him a book, _Blind Crawford's Best Traps and Trip Ups for Home Security and Entertainment._  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him a new knit sweater. Tonks gave him a book as well. _So You Want to Be an Auror_, by Elfius Mumblink.       

"He caught fifteen dark wizards before he even started training." Tonks said knowledgeably. 

Neville gave him a plant. At first glance it looked like a large tulip, but when Harry's hand accidentally brushed the leaves it started to hum softly. His eyes grew heavy and he started to sink back into his pillows. 

Neville took the plant back for a moment and gave it a gentle shake. The humming stopped. Harry blinked the sleepy feeling away.

"It's a cross between a Lotus and a regular non magical tulip." Neville explained. "If you have trouble sleeping you just touch the plant and it activates the defense mechanism. The plant makes a sound that will put just about anyone to sleep. Of courses it isn't nearly as strong as a true Lotus plant and it only sings for a little bit, so you'll wake up again, instead of sleeping forever and wasting away. They're good for insomniacs."

"Thanks." Harry said, looking at the plant suspiciously. Neville meant well, but some of his herbology was a little questionable.

Last of all Professor Lupin presented his gift. It was a rather heavy box, wrapped in simple brown paper. Harry opened it feeling very curious. Inside was a heavy stone pot with an equally heavy lid on it. Harry lifted up the lid just a little, releasing a faint glowing light. _It's a Pensieve_, he thought. He took his wand from beneath his pillow and gave it an experimental stir. A boy, looking very much like himself flew on an old-fashion broom stick, carrying a Quaffle up the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Harry looked up at Professor Lupin in surprise. 

"It's the 1978 Quidditch season at Hogwarts. I recall Gryffindor completely decimating Slytherin that year." Lupin said with a faint smile on his face. "I wouldn't go diving into that just yet though; I don't know what it would do to all these muggle machines you're attached to..."

"Th-th-thanks." Harry found himself stuttering. His throat stung and his eyes fogged up a bit. Before everyone could get into an embarrassing emotional moment Lupin provided a wonderful distraction.

"Did I mention all your O.W.L.S. scores were delivered this morning?" he asked casually, holding up three thick envelopes.  

"Give them to me!" cried Hermione. She jumped out of her seat and was almost in the astonished professor's lap before she got control of herself. She cleared her throat while Fred and George snickered.                    

                "…um. That is to say, heh…May I please have my test results sir?"

            Looking a bit frightened the werewolf gave her the envelope with her name on it. She stared at it apprehensively. Her hands shook.

            "What if I failed something? I can't open it."

            "I know what you mean." said Neville. "I've had mine almost a week and I still haven't got the nerve." He with drew a slightly battered envelope from his pocket.

            "Why don't we all trade then?" suggested Ron. The others looked nervously about and then nodded. They shuffled them up then traded. Harry looked down at the one in his hands.

**Mister Neville Longbottom.**

**Attic Room**

**14 Stormbridge Way******

**Muirfield; ****Scotland******

            Harry looked at the others. Ron was starting to turn a bit red. Fred was looking over his shoulder. 

"Go!" said Ron.

Harry tore open the envelope, and pulled out the parchment.

He skimmed through the paragraph talking about the significance of the scores and what they were judged on. He went straight to the raw results.

**Astronomy: Poor**

**Care of Magical Creatures: Acceptable**

**Charms: Acceptable**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding**

**Divinations: Acceptable**

**Herbology: Outstanding**

**History of Magic: Poor**

**Potions: Outstanding**

**Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectation**

He got to the potions score and roared with laughter. Neville looked heart broken. 

"No, its good news Neville. You're going to make his life an absolute living hell! His head is going to explode when he learns this!"

Neville snatched the papers from Harry. His face fell, and he grew very pale. 

"He really is going to kill me this year." Neville moaned.

"Who's going to kill you Neville Dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley with great concern.

"Professor Snape. I've just got an Outstanding in potions." Neville sighed and sank into his chair as if trying to disappear.

"He's going to explode twice Harry." said Ron. "You've pulled off and Outstanding as well, I don't envy you three." He said looking at his year mates.

George was looking over Hermione's shoulder. "You won't have to envy them, you made it to. Congratulations Ronniekins."  

Ron's mouth dropped open. "That's got to be a mistake. Let me see."

The papers were reshuffled and everyone had their own, except Hermione. Fred had taken her papers from Neville, and was trying to get her to guess her grades.

Harry skimmed down the sheet.

**Astronomy: Dreadful**

**Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding**

**Charms: Exceeds Expectation**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding**

**Divinations: Troll**

**Herbology: Acceptable**

**History of Magic: Poor**

**Potions: Outstanding**

**Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectation**

"There really is a 'troll'" he said slightly amazed. 

He looked up to see Bill levitating Fred upside down while Hermione inspected her own grades with a huge frown. Harry knew she must have beaten him in every subject. She took Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes as well, but she could not have done poorly in either of those. Ron noticed the frown as well. 

"What's the matter Hermione?"

"She ran out of records to break." said Fred as he hung up side down. His face was turning purple. "One hundred plus percent in every category."

Hermione nodded absently. "I know I made a mistake in Ancient Runes, but I must have made up for it in the extra credit section."

"The department of Mysteries put a job offer in with her test results." said Neville, who once again seemed ready to face the world.

The room erupted in chatter, and the adults who had kept silent through the tense opening process were now giving congratulations and advice. Ron passed every subject but divinations where he was given a "Poor". He received an outstanding in Defense as well as potions, exceeded expectation in charms, care of magical creatures, and somehow transfigurations. He got "Acceptable" s in everything else. They all chatted and laughed and Harry felt better then he had in months, but as the day wore on and people began to head home a faint prickling of guilt returned. When he had blown out the candles on his cake he had wished Sirius was alive. _Guess I didn't wish hard enough. He said good by to Ron and Hermione who were the last to leave. They took Hedwig with them, and promised to return the next day.  _

It was growing dark out side, and he was getting lonely with only the beep to keep him company. There was a soft knock on the door. 

"Come in?" he said.

The door opened and Joan creaked in. 

"Hey Harold!" she said brightly. She looked a bit tired. "Mind if I sit?" 

"Sure."

She sank into the chair and sighed. "It's really strange, I know I knew where this room was but it's taken me three hours to find it. I must be getting old and senile or something. Anyway, Happy Birthday Harold!" She handed him a two packages with cards. One was from her and he opened it right away. It was a muggle novel. _Catch-22, by Joseph Heller. _

"It's about a guy in a hospital in World War Two. It's completely hilarious though." she said.

"Thanks. It looks interesting." Harry said, setting the book down. He was glad the Weasleys had put all his magical present in a box under his bed. He looked at the card on the second package.

From: Dudley Dursley

To: Potter

He looked at Joan in surprise.

"I went by your house to see if he wanted to go visit you today. Your aunt sort of threw me out, but Dudley caught up with me at the bus stop. He told me it was your birthday and asked me to deliver that present."

Harry nodded. He carefully turned the small box around in his hand, and then shook it. Dudley wasn't clever enough to rig something to explode, but you couldn't be too careful. He peeled off the polka dot wrapping paper. Inside was a thick card board box, stamped with gold letters. It read Tarot: Divine the Future. He opened the box and inspected the cards. It was a muggle deck, without moving pictures, and the instruction book contradicted a lot of things he had been taught in divinations class. _Of course I could be remembering them wrong. I can't believe I got a "troll". Why would they even make that grade? I can't believe __Dudley_ got me a birthday present_. Joan was looking at the cards.      _

"You're into that stuff?" she asked curiously. There was a strong emphasis on the word stuff.

Harry recalled some of the odder muggles he'd seen on the television, who thought they could do magic and tell the future_. I don't want her to think I wear leather pants and dark eye make on the weekends._

"My parents were sort of into this, that's why they didn't get along with my aunt Petunia. Religious differences." He said. He thought he must have had a funny look on his face. She looked embarrassed.

"Oh." She paused awkwardly. "Maybe I should go home, and let you sleep." She said and got up.

The room grew full of odd little sounds as she walked towards the door. The oxygen machine hissed and clicked. The heart monitor beeped incessantly and he could hear doctors mumbling in the hallway. Wind rattled the windows and he felt terribly alone all of a sudden. 

"Do you want me to tell your fortune?" Harry asked.

She turned around and made her way back to the chair. "Sure, but if I don't win the lottery and become a millionaire I'll be really disappointed."

******

He stirred the bubbling yellow liquid a third time and waited exactly fifteen heart beats before adding the mandrake roots. From the potion a sour rotting smell poured. _Thirty seven minutes to simmer, then the feverfew leaves. The pale dark haired man reached across the crowded counter and turned over an hour glass with the number thirty seven painted neatly on the top.  He exhaled slowly then sat down on a near by stool, anything more comfortable and he would likely fall asleep. He had been awake three days in a row. __And now Potter has conceived to make it four. Of course Albus! I will make any potion you require! Had to say yes before asking who needed it didn't I? _It will be near dawn before I can bring it to him. At least most of the Weasleys will be gone by then. Off to their crowded little shanty. Lupin will be there though. 'Sorry Headmaster I can't do any actual work this week, I have to hold Potter's hand and wipe his nose for him. Of course, of course. Severus, would you mind covering all of his shifts?' The dog should just sit in his lap and get it over with. _   _

            "If you keep grinding your teeth like that you won't have any left." Called the portrait on the wall behind him.

            Not bothering to reply Professor Snape whipped out his wand and stunned the magical painting. He sat on the wobbly stool for the next half hour, thinking about what he could add to the potion to make it taste worse without reducing its potency. 

            It was three in the morning when the Healing draft was complete. The boy would be stable enough to transfer to St. Mungo's within two hours of ingestion. Snape poured the now glowing green potion into a flask. He stuffed that and a goblet into the pockets of his robes and marched outside, beyond the wards protecting the school. He apparated to the parking lot of St. Catherine's Hospital in Surrey.  Snape cast an invisibility charm over himself then walked into the crowded muggle building. 

            Potter's room was on the fifth floor, and he took the stairs to avoid contact with any muggles in a packed elevator. He was disappointed in the guards the Order had posted. Diggle was leaning against the wall outside Potters room, clearly asleep, the other was no where to be found.  Snape decided he would not bother to check in with them. Still invisible he quietly opened the door and stepped inside. The bed was partially concealed by a curtain. A faint night light glowed near the floor. He stepped around the curtain and paused. Potter was pale and gaunt looking. Every bone in the boy's face was visible. Tubes ran into the veins of his left arm and up his nose. Wires stuck out the neck of his light blue hospital gown. _It's a miracle anyone gets out of this place alive.   The chair beside the bed was occupied, but to his surprise it was not Remus Lupin sitting there, but a muggle girl. She was carefully filling out a crossword puzzle, a yellow pencil held oddly between the too short fingers of her hand. Potter twitched and mumbled in his sleep._

            "No don't. Run…go…they know were you are…"

 One of the boxes he was wired to began to beep rapidly. The girl leaned forward in her chair and tapped the boy on the shoulder with the book until he woke up. Potter looked about the room blearily for a moment then closed his eyes again, breathing softly. _Time to get ride of the fan club Potter. Snape silently cast a compulsion charm on the girl.__ You want to go to the dinning hall and get coffee. She readjusted herself in the chair, but did not leave. He cast it again. __You need coffee. The second time it sunk in. She got slowly to her feet, and walked with creaking steps to the door, but paused before leaving._

            "I'll be back in a minute Harold." She said quietly. 

            The boy did not answer. The door closed quietly behind her. Snape lifted the charm from himself and stepped to the side of the bed.

            "Wake up Potter." he said in a low voice.      

            The boy bolted upright, eyes wide and unfocused. His hand darted to the bed side table and snatched up his glasses. As soon as he had them on his face he glared at Snape.

            "What are you doing here?" he growled. His eyes darted to the empty chair. "Where'd she go?" he demanded.

            "I neither know, nor care Potter." Snape took the goblet from his robes and filled it from the flask. "Drink this." he ordered.

            "No one told me you were coming." Potter said, not taking the goblet.

            "That isn't my problem, now drink."

            "What is it?"

            "It's a healing draft, so you can be moved to an actual hospital. The headmaster believes you are too…" Snape paused to think of a suitably insulting adjective. "…delicate to be transferred at the moment."

            "What's in it?"

            "This potion was covered on the O.W.L.S. Didn't bother to study though, did you?"

            "As a matter of fact I did," said the boy in a cold voice.  "Which is why I remember that potion is supposed to be light blue not green!" 

            _Blast, I shouldn't have added so much extra stink sap. "You must not have studied hard enough then Potter, Now drink this so I can leave."_

            "You drink it." said the boy insolently.

            _Strangling him will only make things worse. Snape leaned closer, holding the goblet out. "Do as your told you stupid child. You think I haven't got better things to do with my time?" _

            The boy lifted a hand and for a moment Snape thought he would finally take his potion, but he only pushed the goblet away, splashing some of the expensive liquid onto his blankets. The cotton fibers sizzled and smoke rose from them. The boys eyes widened and his hand darted under his pillow. _Going for a wand! Snape thought and caught his wrist.  The boy started struggling. More of the potion spilled. _

            "Get away from me!" Potter yelled desperately. 

            "Harold!" a voice shouted. Snape turned in surprise. Scalding liquid splashed across his face. He roared in pain. He released the boy and stumbled across the floor.  There was a loud creaking sound and suddenly someone pushed him from the side. His arm lashed out and he felt his hand collide with the side of that someone's head. Glass shattered. Voices were screaming and shouting. Someone was pounding on the door. Still blinded Snape pulled the emergency portkey from his robes.

            "Stop!" yelled a deep male voice, but Snape activated the key and was gone.


	5. Fallen Walls

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

Warning: Spoilers and violence.

Reviews are like candy for chinchillas! 

In Fire Lies Redemption

By Marz

Chapter 4

Fallen Walls

For the hundredth time Robert Collins wondered why the ceilings were so low. He knew it was a prison, and that it was designed to be astatically unappealing. _How could those things have walked around in here? Even after five months he still expected to see a dementor drifting out of the shadows, and catching him in the darkness. He ducked under another low area in the arched stone corridor. He barely topped five feet six inches, and even that was only achieved with much stretching before hand.  __Maybe that's why I've been stuck here. If I were Jenkins they couldn't look down their noses at me and say, 'You're transferred Robert', and I wouldn't have to crane my neck up and ask like an idiot when? Everyone knows you ask where first. He stopped short. _

            One of the cells was open. The scarred metal door hung out in the hallway, forming a perfect ninety degree angle with the wall. The number carved into its surface read 564.  _Maybe it was an empty cell. Maybe there was never anyone in there and the house elves just forgot to close it. He crept to the threshold, and raised his wand._

            "Lumos!" he cried. 

            The light blinded him for a second. He swung his arms around himself, trying to fend off any unseen attackers. Nothing came at him. He blinked his eyes clear and stepped inside. A straw mat lay on the floor, and there was a slop bucket in the corner. The cell had been occupied. He mumbled the words under his breath, slightly afraid of what it would do.

            "Prisoner 564 has escaped."

            Alarms blared. The entire island echoed with their angry howls. Collins was nearly deaf by the time the search team arrived. Nine men in dark robes gathered around the cell. They unfurled the charmed map that tracked every prisoner on the island. 564 was no where to be found.

            "When did you find the door open?" asked Rinks, the leader of the search team.

            "Yesterday, I just got around to mentioning it." said Collins drolly.

            Rinks did not look amused, though Collins thought he was very amusing, bent nearly double trying to stand in the cramped hall.

 "About a second and a half after I saw the cell was empty actually." Collins amended.

 "Everyone spread out and search every where. We do this by the book." Rinks announced pompously.

They guards spread out, jogging up the halls, and testing the doors. Collins got to the end of the hall and went up the stairs. After six hours of searching no trace of prisoner 564 had been found.  The wards along the shore were all intact, as were the anti-disapparation wards. There were no traces of where she had gone. The Ministry was informed, and a detail from the Department of Mysteries was dispatched. After two hours of intense questioning about the open door he had observed Collins was released from duty. He trudged off towards the guard barracks, his right leg asleep and his back aching.

The barracks stood separate from the main prison. A thin path of stones connected the tiny rock on which the building stood to its larger brother. He walked the hundred yards of the bridge like path and was soaked with sea spray by the time he reached the other side. The wind howled around him, burning his face, but he paused outside the barracks gate for a quick smoke. They always complained about his pipe. He thought its smell was far superior to the unwashed sock stench that usually permeated the drafty building, but no one else agreed with him. He huddled against the stone wall, trying to strike a match.

"Couldn't you just use your magic wand?" asked a laughing voice, so close he felt warm breath on his ear.

He shouted and the pipe fell, forgotten.  As he turned he grabbed for the wand holstered at his hip, but it was not there. 564 closed in. His back was already against the wall, and his legs worked pointlessly trying to push him through it. She put a hand on the wall above his right shoulder and leaned in, blocking his view of the prison. She stood at least two hand-spans taller then him, and he was forced to look up into her bizarre black and white flecked eyes.

"Tell me love. How does one get off this island, with out getting one's feet wet?" she asked, playing with the collar of his robe with her free hand.              

"You can't, the wards are all up and there aren't any boats."

"I think you're lying to me sweetie."

"This is Azkaban! There is no way off, this is the most secure prison in the world."

"Funny, I recall hearing of quite a few escapes recently. So, how do I get out of here? You'd best tell me quick, you don't want me upset do you?"

Her hand darted into her gray prison robes, but instead of pulling out his missing wand, she withdrew a sharpened piece of wood and jabbed it against his neck. It stung horribly and he felt a thin trickle of blood drip down his throat. 

"What's wrong with you?" he gasped, "There isn't any way out. This is Azkaban! You-know-who himself would have to pick you up personally. That's the only way."

"Then how do I get You-know-who to pick me up?"

Collins just gapped at her. She stiffened suddenly and threw herself to the ground. A jet of red light blasted a crater in the stones, spattering him with sharp bits of shrapnel. She scrambled away. Red lights flashed at her feet but could not hit her. She ran past the barracks and straight for the raw stones marking the edge of the island. There was a resounding boom as the wards at the edge of the island shattered. It was only a short drop to the water below.

_She's going to get away_, Collins thought amazed. But just as she came to the end of the stone she stopped, throwing her weight back. She landed ungracefully on her butt. Her foot was hanging over the side and she snatched it back. The agents from the Department of Mysteries surrounded her, and Collins scrambled to join them. She ignored the men around her, focused completely on the water. It was as gray as the stones in the faint dawn light. 

"You're charged with attempting escape and assaulting a guard." announced one of the DM's. Collins didn't know him. 

She ignored him, and continued to stare at the water. She seemed completely unaware of them, until they pulled her roughly to her feet and searched her. She slapped one of them across the face when he reached inside her robes. Collins wand was returned to him. They put the blood stained shiv in an evidence bag. They marched her back across the narrow path. She walked along like a stubborn child, dragging her feet a bit but not fighting viscously. 

"Thought I had it that time," she said conversationally to Collins as he walked near her side. "I'm still a chicken I guess."

Collins was about to ask what the hell she was talking about when it exploded. The gigantic north wall of the prison blew out ward and tumbled into the sea. Waves rose up and over the path. The woman screamed, then everything was lost in the roar of the water.

Stones scraped his hands and knees as he was washed along into the sea. His head broke the surface and he gasped for air. Fires glowed in the innards of the building. He could see prisoners running about frantically. Green and red lights flashed among the back lit figures. The stones echoed with screaming. There was a splash to his left. He whirled to see a pale hand breaking the surface of the water. Without thinking he grabbed it and pulled up. 564 broke the surface. She did not choke and cough the water out of her lungs, as a normal person would. Her eyes were blank and liquid spilled from her mouth in short panting gasps. 

Collins saw the off duty guards spill from the barracks and shouted for help. Some one summoned him to shore. They took the prisoner into the mess hall and set new wards around the little rock. There were not enough of them to retake the prison. 

He stood among the men from the Department of Mysteries, who had been pulled from the sea. They were passing around a pair of omnioculars, and when they came to him he raised them to his eyes. It stood amid the flames on the roof of the previously inescapable prison. Men came to its side and bowed low, as if afraid to look into the glowing red eyes in its gray scaly face.   He who must not be named turned towards the little island then. Someone caught the omnioculars as he let go.

"What did you see?" one of the DM's asked.

"He winked at me." said Collins before he collapsed.

******

            Her arm pounded dizzily on the wall as she tried to regain her balance. She stumbled and slid sideways along the wall and blood smeared across the off-white paint. Before she could land in the broken glass on the floor, Professor Lupin caught her elbow. He led her back to the chair.

            "Harry you can stop shouting now." said the tired looking man.

            Harry's mouth jerked shut. He had not realized he was making noise. He then noticed Kingsley Shacklebolt as well. The huge man stood at the side of the bed, looking completely calm, but Harry never saw any other expression on him anyway.

            "Who was here?" he asked.

            "It looked like Professor Snape, and he tried to get me to drink something but some of it spilled and it melted the blanket." Harry pointed at the slowly smoking hole in the blue fabric. "He was grabbing me, but then Joan came in."

            He turned to the girl in the chair who still looked dazed. Remus was pushing her hair around, inspecting the injury on her scalp.  

            "Are you alright Harry?" she asked in a wavering voice.

            "She needs a doctor." Harry said.

            Mrs. Weasley burst into the room then. It took her less then a second to access the situation. She took over from Lupin and with a quick flick of her wand she healed the cut on the back of Joan's head. Lupin and Shacklebolt were huddled in the door way speaking low voices. Though no longer bleeding profusely, Joan still appeared disoriented. She lurched from the chair and snatched up the phone that hung on the wall.

            "I'll get the police." She said in a slurred voice.

            "It's alright dear." said Mrs. Weasley, "They've already been summoned."

            The girl did not seem to hear and continued to press the buttons.

            "Accio phone!" Mrs. Weasley called. The phone tore itself from the wall and from her hands. Joan shrieked and fell to the floor. She got shakily back to her feet. 

            "Joan, come here." Harry said waving his arms. She tottered towards him like a two year old on unsteady feet.          

She started suddenly and Harry turned to follow her gaze. Mad-eye Moody stepped through the door, in black robes and swirling cloak. His normal beady eye was focused on Kingsley, but the magical electric blue one turned towards Joan. It paused for a moment, and then rolled up into the back of his head. She screamed. Harry tried to grab her arm, but she was standing too far from the bed.

"Somebody stop that noise!" growled Moody.

Mrs. Weasley started toward her. Joan's eye's darted toward the wand in her hand and she tried to back away, but she bumped the heart monitor and it crashed to the ground. Harry gasped as the electrodes were ripped off his chest. The rhythmic spikes on the screen disappeared and a loud and alarming note flowed from the speakers.

"Joan calm down!" he begged. "Just sit. Sit in the chair." He waved at it. 

Her screaming had quieted to a whimpering series of hiccups. She stood with her back to the wall as Mrs. Weasley approached, speaking quietly.

"It's alright dear, why don't you have a seat? We'll explain all this alright?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"It's fine Joan, come sit down. Nobody is going to hurt you. These are my friends." Harry said waving at the people in the room, most of whom were now ignoring them.  Joan nodded and Mrs. Weasley took her arm, steering her towards the chair.

"My head hurts." she mumbled.

Mrs. Weasley held up her wand. "Can you follow the end of this with your eyes dear?"

Joan nodded but turned her entire head to track the wands motions. Her eyes were dilated.

"I think she has a concussion." Harry said.

"I'd better take her down stairs; the muggle doctors can help her."

"But Mrs. Weasley can't you do a spell to help her?"

"I'm not a Medi-witch Harry; I don't know how serious this is."

Harry was about to speak when the air in the room was split with a resounding crack.

"The wards have come down!" announced Diggle in a panicked voice.

Joan started to shrieked again. A blast of red light struck her in chest and knocked her out of the chair. She lay sprawled on the floor, her eyes half opened. Harry and Mrs. Weasley stared at the unmoving girl in shock for a moment the looked to Moody. He was shoving his wand back in his robes.

"Can't think with all that racket." He was muttering as he turned away.

Harry was out of bed in an instant. He didn't feel the I.V. rip out of his arm. He only saw red.

"YOU BASTARD! SHE'S DEAD. YOU KILLED HER!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

It was Lupin who caught him. Half way to Moody he was lifted off his feet. His scar burned. His former teacher was trying to calm him down. He was talking calmly in his ear, saying things like she's alright, she's fine, and Molly is bringing her around, but none of it sunk in past the haze. The burning in his scar intensified and it felt as if something were crawling out of his throat. Something was coiling around his heart, squeezing the life out of him.

"**Soon. Soon." Hissed a voice all in the room recognized. "****You little fools can not hide from me. I am coming for the boy. Die with him if you must." The thing twisted his neck around toward Mrs. Weasley.** "Your disgusting brood will die screaming for mercy. I'll kill your daughter myself when I finish with her.**"**

Mrs. Weasley looked angry enough to kill. As she strode towards Harry's writhing form Lupin tried to hold him away from her.

"Molly it's not him…" He started to say.

 "I know Remus, let me see him."

While all this was going on Kingsley and Moody worked furiously to get the wards back up. Diggle paced in panic, and finally declared he was going to get Dumbledore before disappearing. Remus turned toward Molly. His arms were locked around Harry's chest, holding his twitching feet off the floor. Molly put her hands on the sides of the boys face. The eyes were not Harry's. From inside the pupils a faint red light glowed. The thing inside Harry's head glared at her with absolute hatred. Her face was hard but she spoke with the calm motherly voice that made Harry so jealous of her children. 

"Harry, Dear I know you're in there. Don't let him do this to you."

The voice tried to say something but Harry bit down on his tongue. 

"Harry," she continued, "We love you, you're part of the family. I know you can do this Harry."

Harry shook his head. He accidentally struck Lupin on the chin with his skull, but didn't notice.

"Harry, Sirius knew you beat him." she said.

Almost as if in conformation, furious barking echoed in his ears. 

"You can beat him Harry. You're stronger." said Lupin.

He felt tears running down his face; he could barely see Mrs. Weasley through them. The coils dropped away.

"I'm sowwy, sowwy," he mumbled. Blood dribbled from his mouth. His tongue was swelling up and he could barely speak. "I wasss so angwy an e gaw in. Sowwy."

Lupin changed his hold on him. There was now an arm under his back and another under his legs. His head lolled against the werewolf's neck and blood drooled onto his shirt collar.

"We can't get the wards back up." said Kingsley. "We have to get out of here, now."

"How?" Lupin asked.

"I believe I can help with that." said Albus Dumbledore. He strode into the room in flannel pajamas and slippers, with a large rug rolled up under his arm.  He went straight to Harry and gently tuned his head, looking into his eyes. Harry felt his scar tingle, but nothing worse occurred. Dumbledore unrolled the rug. Though it appeared small when tucked under his arm, it covered most of the floor. 

"If everyone will take a seat we shall be on our way." he said cheerfully.

They all sat on the rug but as Lupin tried to make the disoriented teenager comfortable, Harry started struggling.

"You can'd lee hew on'd floow. E can see hew." Harry struggled to get up.

With a flick of his wand Dumbledore levitated the unconscious girl onto the rug. She landed next to Harry.

 "All set?" he asked.

Moody looked very uncomfortable but nodded. The rest of the Order members said "yes".

Dumbledore waved his wand again and the wall melted away. The red Oriental rug rose into the air and carried its passengers up into the cool dawn air. When they were clear the wall healed up as if nothing happened.

Harry fell asleep for a while. When he woke again Joan was gone. He nearly panicked, thinking she had some how fallen off, but Lupin insisted she had been healed and returned home to Rosewood Lane. Harry looked over the edge and recognized the city of London below them.

"Can'd dey see usss?" he asked. His mouth hurt.

"The carpet is disillusioned on the underside." Kingsley answered him.

"O."

Harry remained quiet as they landed in the square in front of twelve Grimmauld place. He tried to stand up but his legs would not hold him.  Lupin scooped him up without comment. He looked around at the others and was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley carried his box of birthday presents. When they were all off the rug it rolled itself up neatly and Dumbledore tucked it under his arm again. The strange party marched up to and through the hidden front door.

****** 

 Harry spent most of August alone in the cavernous house. Dumbledore arranged for a healer from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to bring potions to him, but Harry never learned his name. Hermione and the Weasleys visited infrequently. Hermione explained that they had been moved to a different safe house, and Dumbledore did not want them to risk exposing Harry's hiding place.  Harry tired to stay out of the way, so members of the Order rarely saw him, except Professor Lupin. He seemed to always know where Harry was. He would hang around with him and tease him about home work, making small talk. He was often busy with missions though. 

 Harry wandered the house, trying to get his strength back, but the solitude gnawed at him, like an angry rat in his stomach. He saw no sign of the traitorous house elf Kreacher, and did not know if that was a good or bad thing. He knew if he came across him he would try to kill him, and when ever he thought about that possible meeting coils would tighten up around his heart. The screaming painting of Sirius mother was also gone. Nothing in the old house showed signs of its previous occupants, except the shadows.

 Frequently Harry would see something in the corner of his eye, low to the floor and pacing him with a rolling gate. He was certain if he turned fast enough he would see his godfather's Animagus form tracking him, but he never looked back, afraid even that ghost would vanish.

On the night of August 31 Harry sat at the kitchen table, slowly eating thin broth. His stomach was still too finicky for solid food. The stairs creaked and he dove under the table, drawing his wand. Slowly, boots appeared at the foot of the steps. Harry watched the boots circle the table and head to the cabinets. When they turned away from him he rolled from beneath the table, springing to his feet. The man dropped the bottle of liquor he had picked up when he saw Harry had a wand pointed at him.                  

"Hello Harry," said Professor Lupin. 

"Hey." Harry said. A strong smell of alcohol rose about them. The former Professor's eyes looked slightly blood shot to him. 

"I was just having a bit of trouble sleeping. Thought a drink might help." Lupin explained. He was blushing heavily, and Harry was certain he'd tried that remedy more then once before coming into down stairs.

"I've got that plant Neville gave me." Harry said. "It'll knock you right out."

"Oh, thanks." Lupin said.  He was slurring just a bit.

Harry saw his hands were shaking. Lupin followed his gaze, and quickly hid them behind his back.

"Maybe you should sit down." Harry said. He pulled Lupin to the bench by the table. He sat by him as the werewolf ground his eyes with the palms of his hands. Lupin had never looked more threadbare and worn. 

"Professor what's wrong?" Harry asked. "Besides everything." he added.

Lupin laughed softly. "I'm not sleeping well. Nightmares."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry thought this sounded a bit Hermione like, but stuck with it.

"I'm not going to bother you, enough to worry about…if he would just stop coming for one night…" Lupin said. He put his head down on the table.

"Is it Padfoot?" Harry asked quietly.

Lupin sat up so fast he nearly overturned the bench. He grabbed Harry's shoulder painfully, but Harry ignored it.

"You've seen him?" There was desperate fever in Lupin's eyes as he asked.

Harry nodded. "After Malfoy shot me Padfoot was there. He was in the ambulance too, and in the dark. When I saw through Voldemort's eyes, I could see him. It's never Sirius though. Only Padfoot."

Lupin was nodding. "He never says anything, but my brother says it for him, he always comes in the same dream, when it got me, but he comes instead, and they're all wrong and I don't understand anymore." 

Harry tried to look understanding, though he was completely confused. Harry was not certain what the proper thing to do was. He decided to wing it. He reached out his hand to pat the former Professor on the back. Suddenly the man was crying all over Harry's shoulder, mumbling. 

"I should have gone after her. It was too personal for him to keep his head. We always knew I was supposed to die first, I'm the damn werewolf. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

After a few very awkward minutes the mumbling stopped and Harry realized Lupin had passed out. He thought for a moment about levitating him to one of the couches upstairs, but he was afraid to draw the Ministry to their location using under age magic. He carefully detangled himself from the unconscious man, and crept to the linen closet for spare pillows and blankets. He set up a make shift bed on the floor. He accidentally dropped the man while trying to get him off the bench, but he only grunted faintly when he hit the floor. Harry threw blankets over him and stuffed a pillow under his head. He cleaned up the spilled liquor and glass and climbed the stairs to his bed room. The next day he would be boarding the school train, and he could not help but feel happy about that. He could not help but feel guilt as well.

_It's my battle. Everyone says it is_. He thought as he waited for sleep to come. _I've got no idea how to fight it though. What power could I possibly have that Voldemort doesn't? All I've got is a stomach full of guilt. He rolled over attempting to relieve the burning pain in his gut.  __Maybe in the end I'll just explode all over him, and he'll die of some sort of infection. He closed his eyes._


	6. The King's Cross

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

Warning: Violence, a bit of gore, and foul language; also spoilers for all HP books.

Author's Note: I'm getting desperate for reviews. Even one word would help. Good, bad, boring, inspiring, preachy, stinky? Anything would help (though sentences are extra appreciated).

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 5**

**The King's Cross**

It was still dark outside when they came for him. Tonks shook him awake and helped him carry his trunk into the living room. She shrunk it to the size of a matchbox.

            "Someone can resize it at school." She said. 

Despite the fact that they were still inside the house they whispered.

            "When are Ron and Hermione going to get here?" Harry asked.

            "They're not. We're going separately. The Weasleys are too well known." Tonks answered.

            "So it's just going to be you, me and Professor Lupin?"

            "Nope it's going to Professor Lupin, Mad-eye Moody, and muggle born first year John Smith. Harry Potter will be going by himself, after a long stroll through Diagon Alley."

            For a second Harry was completely bewildered, then Tonks wrinkled up her forehead in concentration. Her hair shrunk back into her head and darkened from violet to black. Her nose grew pointier, and flesh melted away from her face, so that her cheek bones stood out. Her lips lost color and thinned. She blinked and green pigment washed through her brown irises. Almost as an after thought, a long lightening shaped scar cut its way down her brow. When she smiled at him her teeth had changed as well.

            "Wotcher John." She said in a rather soft nasal voice.

            "I don't really sound like that do I?" asked Harry as he stared at his mirror image.

            His twin grinned at him.     

            Tonks left the mansion a half hour later to catch the Knight Bus. Lupin was casting a glamour on Harry when Mad-eye arrived. He gave Harry a suspicious look, as he did whenever he saw him. Harry gave him a loathing glare. Lupin laughed and both of them.

            "Don't make faces children, they'll stick that way." Lupin said, giving Harry one last tap on the head with his wand.

            Harry went to look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. John Smith was a fairly ordinary looking boy, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was slightly heavy set, and looked rather cheerful, despite the grim mood he was in.

            "Are you both going to be disguised as well?" asked Harry, as he returned to the kitchen. 

            "Not with magic." said Lupin. "We'll just be wearing muggle clothes. Too many glamour charms in an enclosed space can set off detection spells."

            "We're going now." growled Moody. 

            It seemed like no time before they arrived at Kings Cross Station. Harry noticed a clock on the wall. It was only 9am. He smiled faintly. For once he would not be diving onto the train at the last second. His smile faded a bit when instead of going straight to platform 9and ¾ they stopped at a newspaper stand. Lupin began to page through a magazine and gave him a couple of pounds to buy himself hot chocolate. Moody disappeared. It was 10:30 before he returned and Harry was nearly dancing with impatience. The two cups of hot chocolate and another of orange juice he drank while waiting were not helping either.       

            "So far there's no sign a' trouble. Tonks reported in and aside from a few odd ones asking for autographs or calling her a lunatic, no one's bothered her. I don't trust that. Someone knows she's the decoy. Malfoy hasn't shown either."

            "You honestly think he would?" asked Lupin. "He's attempted murder. He's most likely hiding out with his father."

            "His father?" interrupted Harry. "But he's in Azkaban."

            Lupin and Moody exchanged glances.

            "Haven't you been reading the papers?" Lupin asked.

            Harry shook his head. Hedwig was staying with Hermione, and no other owls had come to the mansion. There was no way for him to subscribe.

            "Azkaban was nearly totaled while you were in the hospital. He's cleared out the prison, anyone who didn't join him died. The off duty guards were the only survivors. They were in a separate building."

            Harry goggled at him. "They've all escaped and no one mentioned it to me?"

            "Chat later. It's time to go." said Moody.

            The three of them started up the stairs. Harry looked around as they passed through the station. A tall woman with large dark glasses and a white care slowly crossed their path. The cane swept before her, tapping back and forth. She had a long scar running up the left side of her neck and onto her chin. Harry thought she looked familiar but could not remember where from. They strolled quickly through the crowded station. Harry saw a girl with an owl cage among her luggage. They were at platform six when Lupin whispered something urgently to Moody. Harry watched Moody's eye turn to look through the back of his head.

            "I counted nine." He muttered.

            "Nine what?" hissed Harry desperately.

            "Death Eaters. Don't look back. Keep walking." Lupin said. 

Harry looked up at him. There was a strange closed expression on his face. When he spoke again his voice sounded slightly hallow. "Get him to the train Alastor."

            Moody nodded solemnly. He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him along. Harry understood. _But no matter how good he is nine to one… he can't win._ He turned and tried to catch Lupin's sleeve. Liquid splashed across his face and he inhaled in surprise. There was a sour taste in his mouth. Moody was glaring at him.

            "Keep walking boy." He ordered, and Harry found his traitorous feet were obeying. 

            He tried to yell at Moody; tried to curse him, and scream, but he could not move his arms and had no control of his mouth. He walked along stiffly.

            "You can't help him boy, you'll only waste what chance he's trying to give you." Moody mumbled, as if that would comfort him.  

            As they walked Harry heard a sizzling sound, followed by an echoing boom. 

*****

            People streamed past him on either side. Some bumped him, and there were some angry suggestions for him to get moving. He tuned out the roar of the crowd and the distant rumble of trains. He planted his feet shoulder length apart. They were only ten yards away now and they had most definitely noticed him. Wands were aimed, but not nearly fast enough. Remus raised his hands above his head, his wand held sideways between them.

            "DESINO!"

            The spell was his own invention, a patch work of wards, jinxing and charms. Gold light flowed out of the wand, striking the skylights above, reflecting down to the tiled floor and bouncing back up again, until a wall of wavering light blocked all passage between one half of the station and the other. Muggles were running and screaming. A few ran into the barricade and bounced off. The Death Eaters ignored them and lined up before the rippling barrier. The opponents faced each other: nine men and women in black robes and white masks, one man in a threadbare tweed jacket and faded brown slacks.  

            "Avada Kedavra!" said a cool and lazy voice.

            A green jet of light flew into the glowing wall, but instead of hitting Remus it turned aside, and scorched the tiles on the floor by his foot.

            "Impossible." one of them muttered.

            Remus smirked. It was impossible for a spell to alter the path of the killing curse, but the wall he made was nearly half illusion. It bent light like a glass of water. If they adjusted their aim properly he'd be dead in short order. _ But I've always been good at bluffing. He thought. They paced before him uncertainly._

            "Why it's my dear cousin's pet werewolf!" declared a high child like voice.

            Unconsciously his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. Bellatrix Lestrange pulled off her mask and sauntered up to him. In the corner of his eye he saw the other Death Eaters spread out along the barrier, throwing futile curses and looking for week spots.

            "I suggest you leave. Hit wizards will be arriving shortly." He growled politely. If he leapt forward and strangled the life out of her the barrier would come down. It needed to draw energy from him, but he only had so much to give it. His arms started shaking. Lestrange traced the end of her wand across the barrier. It smoked at the tip.

            "You miss Sirius, don't you? My cousin always had a way with animals. I'll bet he let you sit on the furniture. He probably gave you table scraps too." She paused to leer at him. "Sirius seamed like an animal lover. Did he scratch behind your ears and let you lick his face?" 

            Remus felt the barrier waver. It was like standing against a rubber band that was being snapped back and forth. _It's about to collapse anyway. _He thought.

            "Bellatrix?" he asked softly. 

            She leaned closer to the wall to listen.

            "Avada Kedavra."

            Her eyes had widened at the first word and she had disapparated before the second word was out of his mouth. The barrier disappeared in flash of green light. Remus stood in the center of the station completely exposed. Bellatrix appeared again a few yards away. She and the other eight surrounded him. 

"Incendio!" Remus shouted. 

He swung his arm across the line of Death Eater and fire poured from his wand. They flinched and drew back. In the instant of respite he apparated to the shelter of a pillar farther up the platform, they followed.  

"Do you know you're going to die today werewolf?" growled one of them. 

He recognized the voice: a Slytherin, from a year behind Remus at Hogwarts.

"I did actually!" he shouted. 

He dove from behind the pillar, shooting off stunning curses as fast as his mouth could move. A green light grazed his leg and he lost all feeling in it. He fell. 

He landed sideways on his wand arm and it twisted painfully up behind his back. The Slytherin he recognized towered over him. He could see the clock on the wall.  _I stalled them three whole minutes, that's really not so bad,_ he thought as the man pointed a wand at his heart.

"BOOM"

The windows echoed with the sound. Remus turned his head in surprise. Down the platform a gray blur darted behind a pillar. A shadow passed across him and he looked up just as the Death Eater tipped and crashed down on him like a falling tree. Blood poured from a wound in the man's chest and it soaked Remus' clothes as he tried to untangle himself from the corpse.

"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"

The gray figure appeared again, a pistol leveled. Three more Death Eaters fell. Two twitched faintly on the tiled floor.

"Wards you idiots! Put up your wards." screamed Bellatrix. 

There was a bright spark in front of her face and a high whining sound as a fifth shot was deflected harmlessly away. Remus finally kicked himself free and disapparated.   

*****

            As they passed platform eight Harry regained the ability to drag his feet. Moody turned toward him, another bottle of potion in his hand. 

            "Reducto!"

            The floor in front of them exploded and Moody and Harry were flung into the air. Harry did not see where Mad-eye landed. He drew his own wand and scrambled to his feet. Black robes and white masks surrounded him.

            "Finite." drawled a voice. 

            The spell hit him like a slap in the face.

            "Ah it is you Potter. Good, we wouldn't want to go murdering the **wrong mud-blood." said Lucius Malfoy. **

            The other Death Eaters laughed.             

            Harry did not know any spells that would work against such a large group. He knew he would only have half a chance at one. He scanned the circle, looking at the masked faces. He watched their eyes. Some stared back coldly, others looked guiltily away. He searched for the fevered blue eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, but did not find them.

He looked back at Malfoy.  _I guess you're it_. He thought. He was about to attempt the killing curse when it began to rain red light.

            Stunning curses poured down on the Death Eaters, and Harry sprinted though a gap in their line. A green light shot towards him but he dove to the ground at the last second. A Death Eater sneaking up behind him dropped dead. He looked up and saw five Weasleys on the walkway above him. Fred, George, Bill, Ron, and Percy blasted red and occasionally green light at the circle of attackers. From behind a row of luggage trolleys Mrs. Weasley and her daughter pounded away at those trying to flee on foot. Across the platform from them Hermione and Neville were doing their part, and Mr. Weasley attacked from behind a pillar to their right, completing the cross fire. Harry ducked behind rubbish bin and joined the fight.

            The Death Eaters fought back but they were disorganized and many disapparated and did not return. A group of twenty fled from half their number. Ron was smiling triumphantly and the twins were exchanging what were no doubt rude comments when the battle turned against them.

             Five Death Eaters had regrouped behind a lunch cart, and they seemed to be the most dangerous. Neville crept out of his hiding place and tried to get around behind them. A green light came at him and he froze like a deer before head lights. Harry saw the light. Time slowed down. It was the same as when Sirius was thrown through the veil, but instead of shouting and waving his arms uselessly, something in his mind clicked.

            "ACCIO NEVILLE!"

            Neville was ripped from the path of the green light and flew at an angle toward Harry.  In the split second before Neville slammed into him, it occurred to Harry that he may have used the summoning charm a little too strongly. His head pounded the floor and his glasses flew off his face. His wand bounced away across the tiles. All the air crushed out of his lungs. Harry struggled to get up but Neville was limp and did not move. With all his strength Harry shoved the other boy off of him. Harry got free just in time to see the walk way blasted apart. For an instant he just knelt on the ground, watching his friends drop. Then a huge invisible force wrapped around him and lifted him off his feet. The station was a blur around him, but he could hear the walkway crashing at the end of its thirty foot fall.

            He hit the ground far from the battle and skidded to a stop, scrapping skin off his palms. With slow dizzy motions he tried to get to his feet. A boot stomped down on his lower back and pinned him. Harry tried to look up at the man. The boot pressed down harder and despite himself he let out a howl of agony as the man's full weight crushed down on his spine. His arms and legs spasmed.

            "You wiggle like a beetle on a pin, boy." growled a deep gravelly voice. "Want to see what a blasting curse does when it's cast from two inches away?"

            "Can't see, lost my glasses." Harry hissed through clenched teeth.

            "Funny are…" the man started to say. A loud hiss and a popping sound cut him off half way through his sentence. The weight on his back was lifted. Harry rolled over tiredly, and looked up at his rescuer.  He squinted. She had shoulder length dark brown hair and pale skin. The area around her eyes looked red. Even without his glasses Harry could see the thick white scar that ran up the left side of her throat and over her chin. She wore a long gray trench coat and he could see the light shining off the innumerable rings in her ears. She held a gun in one hand, the barrel was long and Harry guessed it had a silencer attached. She no longer looked blind.

            "Are you alright kid?" she asked.

            He knew that voice. His mouth dropped open. _The muggle woman from the apartment, but she died._

            "I'm alright." he said quietly.

            She held out a hand and helped him to his feet. Harry started back towards the fight but she caught his arm and turned him around.

            "You don't want to go that way sweetie. It's just black robes and freaks." 

            She walked quickly in the opposite direction pulling him along. He tried to shake off her hand.

            "I have to go over there. My friends and family are over there. Let go!"

            "You can't help them kid you've got no idea what your up against. The freak that was stepping on you? He could have killed you with a word. You're lucky he decided to play around first. I'm going to put you somewhere safe and you're going to wait there for the police." she said in a voice that left no room for argument.

            He tried to fit some in none the less. "I've got to get back there! They're only attacking them because they're after me." The second he said it he realized he had said too much.         

            The woman gave him an odd look, then dragged him sideways across the platform. She kicked open the door of a ticket both, shoved him inside, and then crammed herself in as well. It was an awkwardly tight fit, but it did not seem to bother her.

            "What do you know kid?" she demanded. The barrel of the gun was resting almost casually against his shoulder.

            "I don't know anything."

            "You're lying love, and you're bad at it. Convince me I should let you go."

            "I haven't done anything to you."

            "And I should let you run off and die then?"

            "I won't die. I can take care of my self."

            "So I saw." He felt himself blush.

            "He just got me when I was looking else where. I'll be fine. I have to get back to the fight."

            "You're unarmed."

            "I'll take that Death Eater's wand…" _Something else I shouldn't have said. I know how Hagrid feels._

            "I thought you didn't know anything?"

            He made a frustrated noise. "I'm not supposed to say…" _That answer doesn't look like it will hold up too well. "If you let me go I promise I'll explain later." _The Ministry will erase her memory anyway when they catch her.__

            She looked into his eyes. Her gaze was so intense he felt undressed.

            "Sounds fair kid. I'll hold you to it. Wait here a minute. I'll check things out. You come out when I say so. Understood?"  

            "Yes."

******

            Remus limped up platform eight towards the sounds of fighting. Smoke rose thickly and collected under the skylights, darkening the room. His fight with the remaining Death Eaters had been relatively short. They'd traded curses for only five minutes before disapparating into another part of the station. Remus followed the stream of screaming muggles to the second battle sight. He was breathing hard, so as he passed the ticket booth a familiar sent flooded his nostrils. He stopped short.

            "Harry, are you in there?" he called quietly.

            The door burst open and Harry stumbled out. His glasses were gone and he was covered in cuts and bruises.

            "Where's she go?" he asked, squinting hard and looking up and down the platform.

            "Who?" Remus scanned the area carefully.

            "The muggle woman. The one Voldemort killed; she was here. She wasn't dead though, she saved my life, but she wasn't letting me go back to the fight. She said she'd be back, I told her I'd wait. I've lost my wand." he said in one cramped breath.

            "I don't see anyone now. We should get you out of here."

            "NO! I'm going to help the Weasleys," Harry began walking toward the fight. "It's my responsibility."

            Remus limped after him. "Harry, slow down! Wait for me." 

            Just as he caught up with the boy the air was split by a resounding crack. A tall Death Eater appeared behind them, his wand raised. Remus stepped between Harry and the man, at the same time brining up his own wand. His arm seemed so slow. There wasn't time…

            "Avada…"

            He felt Harry's hand on his shoulder and feared the boy would try to push him out of the way. The second word never came. Remus brought his wand to bear. The Death Eater stood at the edge of the platform. His outstretched arm slowly dropped back down and the wand fell from his hand. It bounced across the floor with a soft clicking sound. Remus looked at Harry, but he too was starring in confusion. The Death Eater stiffly tipped over back wards, and a woman in a gray trench side stepped the body a moment before it tumbled out of sight to the train tracks below. She held a long thin knife in one hand and blood dripped from the blade.   She while looking at Harry she tapped the side of her head with her index finger then pointed it at him. The boy nodded. She stepped backward off the edge of the platform and disappeared from view. They stood for a moment, then Remus summoned the dead man's wand and gave it to Harry. 

*****

            Ron felt the ground fall out from under him and looked at his brothers for advice. His heart didn't beat. His stomach flew up into his throat and the ground rushed up at him. Bits of metal were already striking the floor. Everything happened so fast. His eyes darted towards Hermione. His mother's voice exploded in his ears. 

            "REPARO!"

            Suddenly the broken bits of metal and concrete flew back upwards. A large piece of tile came up under his feet and he rode laughingly upward. _Mum was always good at fixing things. As it reassembled he and his brothers hopped out of the way of bits and pieces trying to find their place. Fred was grazed by a bit of railing but other wise they could not be better. He looked back to his mother just as a red light struck her in the chest. She had leapt clear of cover to save them and the Death Eaters had not missed an opportunity. Ginny was shrieking like a banshee. She charged out to her mother and grabbed the collar of her robes in one hand, firing severing charms with the other. As Ginny dragged her mother to shelter their father attacked._

            Ron had never in his life seen his father so enraged. His whole balding head was blushed bright red and his hair stuck out at all angles. His mouth hung open slightly and white showed all around his eyes. Insane was too mild a description. He hit the lunch cart the Death Eaters had sheltered behind with a blasting curse that lifted it twenty feet in the air. Two of them were trapped under it as it landed. He and his brothers were not slow in showing their anger either. 

Fred and George cried "REDUCTO!" and another Death Eater went air born. A rope of fire flew from Bills wand and wrapped around one that tried to get away through an emergency exit.  The last one stood haughtily in the center of the platform, and Ron knew who it was. 

"INCECDIO!" bellowed Ron. 

 Heat from his own curse washed back over him as he threw fire down on Lucius Malfoy. The fire rolled harmlessly off a ward. Malfoy looked up at him and despite the mask covering his entire face, Ron was sure he was smirking. _Think I can't get you? You're dead wrong,_ he thought.  

"CRUCIO!"  Ron Bellowed in the next breath.

Malfoy was knocked off his feet. He screamed. _Last time you'll ever laugh at us_ _Malfoy, last time you'll ever look down your nose like we're something you stepped in. Last time you'll do anything. _Ron watched him twitch and a smile creped over his face. Ron laughed. Some one grabbed his wrist and pushed his wand up towards the ceiling. The curse lifted. Malfoy disapparated. 

Ron glared down at Bill, whom he now topped by several inches.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT? YOU LET HIM GET AWAY!" Ron bellowed. 

Bill slapped him and grabbed him around the back of the neck forcing Ron's ear level with his mouth. 

 "You were enjoying that." Bill hissed. He was going to say more but Ginny was screaming for them. "We're having a long discussion later." Bill warned before letting him go and marching away.

Ron frowned after him. He turned to the twins for back up, but they're reaction was even odder then Bill's. They looked disappointed and frightened. He'd never seen either expression on them before. They turned from him and chased after Bill. He was left with Percy.

"The Minister has given Aurors and Hit Wizards permission to use unforgivables." he said, before walking after the others. Ron was not sure if that comment helped or not.

They circled Mrs. Weasley. Hermione levitated Neville and an unconscious Mad-eye Moody over next to her. A large lump was forming on the back of Neville's head, but that seemed to be his only major injury. Moody stirred groggily when a waking charm was placed on him.  They could not bring Mrs. Weasley around. "Finite" and "Enervate" failed to revive her. Ginny started to cry. 

"No." cried a terrified voice.

 Ron whirled to see Harry and Professor Lupin running up the platform towards them. Lupin limped badly and Harry left him far behind. Harry was bruised and beaten, and without his glasses he did not see a tilted tile in the floor. He tripped and fell head long, rolling to a stop at Ron's feet. Ron pulled him up. His eyes were opened too wide and he looked half mad. As Harry stared at Ron's mother he chanted no, no, no over and over again in a quavering voice. He was still doing it when Lupin caught up to them. Lupin knelt next to the unconscious woman, and raised his wand. After a few minutes of muttering he picked up her hand and, almost timidly, sniffed it. They all stared at him, waiting for answers.

"She'll live." he said. "It's more than just a stunning curse, and I'm not sure how to lift it but she's in no danger of dying."

"How do you know?" asked Ginny wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"One of the effects of lycanthropy, you can smell death from quite a ways off."

No one really knew how to take that comment and they all paused for a thoughtful moment. Dead and unconscious Death Eaters lay sprawled all over the platform. Craters smoked in the floor, walls and ceiling and there was rubble strewn every where. In the distance a police siren sounded.

"Crack!"

 Ten blue robed wizards apparated onto the platform. 

"This is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Everyone freeze."     


	7. Arrival in Darkness

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own mind, and even that I loose fairly often.

Warning: Spoilers and a bit of angst

Authors note: Thank you LifesLikeThat and gool for your review. More reviews are always welcome. 

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 6:**

**Arrival in Darkness**

"Yes and then you arrived after all the work was done." said the boy as he shifted in his seat.

            "Son, Its not that we don't believe you…" said officer Winston.

            "It's just that you don't, and you never will, because you'll never find any proof and you'll never catch any Death Eaters hiding behind your desk!" the boy said. He was nearly writhing in his chair.

            "Son, you need to calm down…"

            "You need to stop calling me son." said the boy. His face was growing red again, which Winston had learned to be the forewarning of an out burst of temper.

            "There are just a few more details we have to go over." Winston said, adjusting the parchment on the desk he had conjured up in the middle of platform 9 and ¾. He looked at the gray walls of the privacy screen surrounding them, and wondered if any of the other agents were having better luck.  A train platform was not the proper setting to take statements in, especially with that train right next to them. Its presence made the witnesses impatient.

            "NO, YOU NEED TO LET ME SEE MRS. WEASLEY!" shouted a shaking voice a few desks over.

            _Apparently not, he thought. The same voice shouted again._

            "I WILL NOT BE QUIET, AND I AM NOT GOING ANY WHERE WITH YOU!"

            The boy in front of him sprang from his chair and shouted "HANG ON HARRY WE'RE COMING!"

            Before Winston could get a word out the boy darted away. Fortunately his height made him easy to spot as he weaved among the rows of screened desks. The rest of the witnesses ran from their desks as well. They surrounded the two agents who were attempting to escort the hysterical boy some where private. Though celebrities should be afforded a little extra leeway, this was going too far.

            "If you will all return to your desks we will finish this up and you can be on your way." Winston said in his most soothing voice.  

            "No." said the werewolf as it limped towards him. Winston drew back a bit.

            "The children are going to see a healer and then they will get on the school train. The rest of us are going to St. Mungo's to see how Molly Weasley is fairing. We have all given you statements and you have had more then ample time to question us," it continued in a surprisingly cultured voice.

            "You aren't going anywhere but to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." said agent Scrimgeour; the poor fellow who had been stuck interviewing the creature.

            The muggle born girl with the frizzy hair walked primly up to him.

            "What is your name?" she asked, "And what are the names of your supervisors?"

            "What's it to you?" Scrimgeour said in a threatening voice.

            "I am not required to tell you, but under the Wizengamot decree of 1567 you are required to present the detained with your name, rank, department, and the names of your three most direct superiors. You are required to provide parchment and ink if the detained wish to write down the above mentioned information. You are also required to make available a healer, and provide a meal should the interview process exceed three hours, and a second meal if it should exceed twelve." The girl rattled off in a very knowledgeable manner.

            "No one cares about a decree from…"

            The girl bowled right over him. "As it is now 3:15pm you own us, and everyone on the train, parchment, quills and lunch. I have special dietary needs, so you'll have to find me something without meat, dairy products or starch in it. Did I mention the decree also stated that the interviewer was required to pay for the meals out of pocket? There are ten of you, and let's see…" she began counting up on her fingers, "There are twelve of us out here, and you haven't let any one on the train leave, and there are five hundred students on board, a quill cost about ten knuts and an average meal costs about seven sickles, They do pay rather well in your department I hope?"

            Scrimgeour glared at her, but the other interviewers looked rather nervous. Winston had heard enough though. Never being a genius with numbers he was not sure the total cost of such a demand, but he had seen people like this girl before. The law was full of loop holes, and the ministry would never reimburse him if he ended up tripping in one.

            "I think our interview is done. All of you, except the werewolf, are free to go."

            Harry Potter stepped up then. The boy really was as crazy as the Prophet made him out to be. He grabbed hold of the werewolf's arm with his bare hand and glared.

            "He's coming with us. You've got no reason to arrest him." The boy said. 

            "Any werewolf found at the scene of a crime can be held up to a full moon cycle, whether it is charged or not. That's the law." said Scrimgeour. "Get on your train boy."

            The muggle born cleared her throat again. "I think perhaps I wasn't being explicit enough. Even if you ended the interview you still held us over three hours, which means you still owe. You see I was trying to hint, but you're being very thick headed so I'll put it this way: either we all go or you pay."

            The other witnesses all nodded in solemn agreement.

*****

            "Hermione I love you! You are absolutely the most amazing, beautiful, clever…" Ron rambled on as the tired students walked down the rocking corridor of the train.  

Hermione and Ginny led the way, followed closely by Ron who dragged along their trunks. Harry walked silently after him, his head hanging. Neville trudged along behind the group still feeling like an outsider. He had woken up on his own a few minutes after the Ministry officials arrived, but his head ached horribly.  None of the conscious adults on the platform were competent healers, and the Ministry had not bothered to provide any. Harry had offered to drag his trunk for him, but he had declined. Neville thought Harry was in worse shape. His face was swollen and he walked stiffly as if every part of him hurt.  They had been unable to find his glasses, though thank fully Harry's wand had turned up.

_He saved my life. I owe him a wizard's dept I suppose_, Neville thought looking at Harry's hunched back. _That close to a killing curse; I'm amazed I didn't piss on myself. _His mind kept going back to that moment, when he stood frozen and the green light blasted towards him. His life had flashed before his eyes, and he was fairly disappointed in it. No great victories at sports or in school, no smiling parents congratulating him on his fine potions, defense, and herbology O.W.L.s. The only really brave thing he ever did was stand up to a room full of Death Eaters, and he had been easily disarmed and tortured. Even then he had messed up, destroying the prophesy that likely told how to defeat he who must not be named. _It makes me wonder why I was even born_.

 He bumped into Harry. 

"Why've we stopped?" he asked.

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were all trying to look into a compartment. Its windows had been boarded up.

"We've run out of train. Every where else is full of slack mouth morons." Ron answered.

"Do you think there's something broken in this one?" asked Ginny. She rattled the handle on the door but it would not open.

"We'll all sit in the prefect's compartment." said Hermione. "Any one who gives us trouble, we'll hex."

They all turned around and started back down the train. Neville paused for a second to let a wave of dizziness pass. A soft scratching noise sounded. He looked at the door of the locked compartment. The handle was slowly turning.

"Hey! Everyone wait…" 

The door swung inward. Neville carefully approached and he heard the others coming up behind him. It was completely dark inside; the outer windows had been boarded up as well. Someone moved in the farthest seat. He saw thick dark hair and a pale face. He drew his wand._ How could she be here? They searched the train! _

"It's Lestrange!" he shouted as he stepped back. "One more step and I'll kill you!" he bellowed.  

The figure froze. Even then she seemed to loom over him.

"What's strange?" she asked an unfamiliar voice.

"Lumos!" said Harry, who had silently creped up next to him.

Light washed over her and she threw her hands over her eyes. "Hey, was' your problem?" she said loudly.

Unless Lestrange had grown a foot taller, permed her hair and put half a hundred rings through all her projecting facial features it was not her. The woman uncovered her face, which despite a similar lack of tan, was in no way else like Bellatrix. She stared at Neville. Her eyes were black with white flecks in them and they sat in oddly square sockets that did not seem meant to contain them.

"Well? Was' your problem then, spi yit out already!"

"Sorry." Harry said, alternately squinting and widening his eyes to a comical extent in an attempt to see. "We thought you were somebody else." He put his wand away.

"Not popular is she?"

"Mass murderer, tortures for fun, nope can't say she is." said Ron. "I don't suppose we could share your compartment?"

"You could have it even." She said in a very friendly way. "Didn't happen to see a short guy in black robes, looking ready to rip his own hair out, wand' ren about did ya?"

"No, it's clear all the way to the front." said Ron.

"See ya around then!" she strode away past Ron. 

Neville stood silently watching her go. There was a question forming in his mind but Harry called for him to come along and it disappeared. He shuffled in after him and sat down. They were unable to pull the boards off the windows so Hermione set a heatless fire in the luggage rack. One by one they dropped off to sleep in the soft flickering light and rhythmic rumble on the tracks. Neville watched his friends. Hermione looked calm resting against Ron's shoulder. Ginny dozed, curled up across two seats, beautiful as always. _She's dating Dean now._ Harry was facing away from them, and Neville adjusted himself in the seat to see him better. Harry was still awake and blinking rapidly. Light reflected off his face in two meandering lines. Neville sat back awkwardly. He thought maybe he should say something helpful, but could think of nothing.

*****

            "Ron." said a quite voice. He jumped up right reaching for his wand. He accidentally hit Hermione's arm and she shouted.

            "Sorry, Sorry." Neville apologized. He was standing before Ron looking very worried.

            "What's wrong Neville?" he asked.

            "Well its Harry." 

            Ron's eyes darted to his friend's seat, only to find it empty.

            "Where did he go?" Ron demanded.

            "He went to the bathroom, but…"

            Ron continued to stare at him.

            "Well he seemed very upset, and I didn't know what to say to him. I don't know him that well and I thought maybe you should, well… you should go check on him."

            "Because he went to the bathroom?"

            "I really think you should check."

            Ron sighed and climbed to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute."  

             The bathroom was in the middle of the train, so it took him a while to get there. He pushed open the door. A second year was standing at the urinals, but he kept looking over his shoulder at a closed stall door, from which a retching sound emitted. Ron looked under the gap beneath the door, and saw Harry's familiar worn trainers. He was kneeling. Ron knocked.

            "You alright?"

            "I'm fine, just not feeling too well." He answered. There was a slight hitch in his breath.

            "Are you sure? Neville was really worried."

            "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute. Go tell him I'm fine."

            "I will. Are you sure you're alright?" Ron asked again. He stood on his toes and peaked over the top of the door.  Harry, huddling on the floor, was wracked with silent sobs.   

            Ron stepped back. He noticed the second starring at him.

            "You're finished, get out." he ordered and the boy ran.

            Ron walked toward the door, then stopped. He started to walk back to the stall, but stopped again. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. _What should I do? If I were him what would I want; to be left alone so I could get it over with, but he's not me. What would mum do?_ The answer occurred to him. _But that would be awkward._ He went to the door and back again.  _What would Hermione do? He slapped himself in the forehead. _Of course!__

            "I'll be right back." He called to Harry and sprinted back up the train.

            He threw open the door of the compartment.

            "Hermione come on." he said, waving at her.

            "What? Is Harry alright?"

            "No, that's why you have to come."

             They went back up the train. A crowd had formed outside the bathroom. The second year he had kicked out was at the front of it, talking.

            "…and he was crying, then he started throwing up." The other students listened intently.

            "All of you have got detention!" bellowed Ron, scattering them. He dragged Hermione protesting, into the men's bathroom.

            "What am I supposed to do?" she hissed in his ear.

            "You have to give him a hug."

            "What?"

            "You have to give him a hug. It's what my mum would do."

            "Why didn't you do it then?"

            Ron goggled at her. "I can't do that, I'm a guy. Hugging is a girl's job. You're built for it."

            They began to argue in hissing whispers, but were interrupted by a gagging sound from the stall. With a final hiss and some emphatic pointing Ron directed her to the stall. Giving him a last glare she went over and knocked. Ron walked outside again. He waited several minutes before poking his head in again. Hermione had gotten Harry out of the stall. They stood in the middle of the floor. Her arms were wrapped around him and he leaned limply into her, with his head on her shoulder. Ron ducked back out. He sent away some fourth years. Five more minutes passed and he checked again. Harry was still leaning on her. He ducked out. _It doesn't mean anything. He's upset. It isn't like that._ He told himself.  _She'd hug Neville if he was crying. She's just being nice. _Another five minutes. This time she was handing him a paper towel. He wiped his nose and threw it away. He hugged her.

            "Everything alright now?!" Ron asked loudly.

            They jumped apart and Hermione glared at him. Harry blushed and looked embarrassed.

            "Yeah it's fine." Harry said. "Anybody want to play chess?"

            They went back to the compartment. Hermione stepped on the heel of his shoe several times as he walked and he was fairly certain it was on purpose. 

            The Hogwarts house elves appeared in the halls of the train a few minutes after they arrived their compartment, carrying trays covered in food. They served the welcoming feast, explaining that it would be almost midnight before they reached their destination. They ate a very quiet meal. And everyone but Ron drifted back into a stupor. _It didn't mean anything, he thought. _

****

            The air felt incredibly cold as he climbed off the train. Even with his sweater on beneath his robes, the cold sank into his bones and made his hands numb.  Harry walked toward the school carriages._ I could have saved him. He shouldn't have fallen through the veil. Accio Sirius! I could have saved him. He tried not to look at the thestrals, but then Lavender Brown's shrill voice forced his attention to one._

            "What on earth is she doing?" she said pointing.

            The strange woman who had given them the last compartment was holding out a piece of bread to one of the half horse half pterodactyl creatures. Its white eye's rolled in its head as she waved the bread under its nose. It was starting to look annoyed.    

            "It won't eat that." called Harry as he walked over to her.

            "Horses like bread." she argued.

            "That isn't a horse. It's a thestral. They're carnivores and if you keep doing that it's likely to bite you."

            She gave him an appraising look. "Right then." She threw the bread away casually and wandered off. With a sigh Harry went back over to his friends' carriage. Though they had already eaten the students filed into the hall for the sorting ceremony. As he walked in he noticed the seat for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was empty. 

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, next to Ron and watched the first years file in behind professor McGonagall. _They're really small this year… he thought but cut himself off as the strange woman from the train came last through the door. She was at least six feet tall and stood out like a giant among the eleven year olds around her. For a moment Harry though she might be part giant, but she was not nearly bulky enough. His thoughts were interrupted by the sorting hat. The worn black hat ripped itself open and began to sing._

_I'll tell you now, as told before,_

_The tale of Slytherin and Gryffindor.___

_Hufflepuff__ and Ravenclaw true, _

_Are very important to me and you,_

_But the tale I tell is not their fault,_

_For this tragedy they tried to halt._

_Upon the shores of a placid lake, _

_The founders did a castle make_.__

_And in this place they planned to teach_

_The children of magic within their reach.___

_But magic you see, it does not care_

_About the ancestry that you bare,_

_But many men do and this I fear,_

_Is why great tragedy visits here._

_Between Slytherin and all the others_

_Raged a battle over fathers and mothers.___

_Only the pure will learn from me,_

_From mixed blood we should be free._

_No! said Hufflepuff, all may come,_

_For a terrible world is a divided one._

_The wise we must choose with out haste,_

_Said Ravenclaw, or all our work will go to waste._

_Last of all spoke Gryffindor,_

_The most stubborn of the four,_

_Character is the deciding thing,_

_We'll take no cravens under wing!_

_And so on and on they argued thus,_

_Destroying all their hard earned trust.___

_And great sins did two men commit,_

_To see that only those they saw fit,_

_Could come with in these walls of stone,_

_Separately and on their own,_

_They made cruel plans that at their start,_

_broke__ this poor stone castle's heart.    _

_Slytherin, he meant to harm,_

_All those with out a purebloods charm,_

_But Gryffindor, his treachery worse, _

_Laid upon these halls a curse.___

_Those who eat from Slytherin's plate_

_Are there fore doomed to share his fate.___

_So all you student's gather up, _

_Your courage and your smarts,_

_For I'm to read what's written by_

_ The darkness of your hearts.   _

            The silence in the hall was deafening. Professor Dumbledore looked more then a little shocked, when Harry glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He was his normal smiling self a moment later and led the room in applauding the song.  Professor McGonagall took up her list and called the first years forward.      

            "Altor, Jonathan."

            "SLYTHERIN!" cried the hat.

            It continued to call out the students and Harry's mind wandered. He only clapped when other Gryffindors did. His mind rolled the song over and over. _How could Gryffindor place a curse on children?_ A sudden gasp recaptured his attention. Lavender Brown was whispering and giggling loudly, pointing at the first year approaching the stool. Harry had missed the name. He could not tell the child's gender. His or her hair looked as if it were made from a huge collection of miss matched wigs. Thin blond wisps and heavy dark curls popped up between short strands of gray and bristles of red. As the first year turned and sat on the stool most of the room gasped. One side of the face had high cheek bones and tanned skin, the other side was rounded and pale. The eyebrows did not match, one was thin and light, the other beetling and blue black. The nose was horribly crooked, and the eyes, one gray and one brown were different shapes. The child looked ready to cry as the hat came down. _I hope that poor kids not in Slytherin_ was all Harry could think.   The hat took several minutes to decide.

            "HUFFLEPUFF!" it shouted.

            The table clapped extra hard for its new member. Harry looked at the remaining students. The tall woman was still standing with them. He thought at first she may have been the new defense teacher, but that idea faded as the last first year scurried off to a table. The woman stood alone in the center of the hall.

            "Verdad!" called Professor McGonagall. There was no first name.

The hall erupted in chatter as the woman walked up to the stool and sat down. She looked very amused as McGonagall stretched upwards to put the hat on her.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat immediately.

Harry watched her walk calmly to the Slytherin table. It was full at the near end, so she strode back towards the door, passing many stunned faces. As she passed a white blond head its owner turned to look at her and Harry saw his face.

"It can't be!" he said, half out of his seat.  

Draco Malfoy turned toward Harry and smiled.


	8. The Dead and their Lawyers

Disclaimer: They are mostly not my characters.

Warning: cursing, violence, and creepiness.

Author's note: Thanks all you people who reviewed! Sorry it took me so long to up date, I had a lot of stuff going on. Well on with the show! 

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz **

**Chapter 7**

**The Dead and Their Lawyers**

            The eggs were runny. Harry stabbed them with his fork again. The thought of putting them in his mouth was nauseating, but if he kept them moving, no one would notice he was not eating. He hoped. None of his friends seemed particularly hungry either. He pushed the hair out of his eyes again and glanced at the table at the end of the hall, where the teachers and Headmaster Dumbledore sat. The Headmaster was not looking at him.

            Harry usually spent his summers praying some miracle would allow him to return to school early, but now he almost found himself wishing he could return to the cupboard under the stairs in his Aunt Petunia's home. He hated the way the Dursleys treated him, but they would never pretended affection then betrayed him, and some part of him respected that honesty.  

Professor McGonagall had refused to let him speak to Dumbledore after the sorting. She caught him half way across the hall and sent Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and him to the hospital wing, insisting that the situation with Draco and his gang was being dealt with. Harry had fallen asleep while Madam Pomfrey was treating him, and woke up the next morning in his dorm room.

He thought again of the way Draco smiled at him before leaving the sorting. _Malfoy knows he's already won. _Harry's stomach lurched again and he pushed his plate away. It seemed fortuitous that he did so. A snowy white owl landed in the newly emptied space a moment later. It held a letter and a small rectangular box in its beak. A gray blur whizzed into the room and circled Ron's head. Harry couldn't help but laugh at Pig, Ron's hyperactive miniature owl. The snowy owl hooted, reclaiming Harry's attention.

            "Thanks Hedwig," said Harry, taking the package and tearing it open. 

His new glasses had arrived. He put them on and every edge and line in the room was suddenly clear. He tore open the letter. 

_Dear Harry,_

_Molly woke up this morning, and is doing well, except for a minor headache. I hope your trip ended safely. If you have the time I would be very interested in hearing about your new Defense teacher. Good luck with your sixth year._

_R.J.L._

Ron read his own letter and sighed with relief. Harry was about to ask him if he wanted to practice Quidditch that evening when a hush fell over the room. They looked towards the door.

Like royalty, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode walked into the hall. A faint white scar ran across Malfoy's right cheek, where Joan had slashed him with a broken piece pottery. Instead of going to the Slytherin's table, they headed straight for the Gryffindors.  The entire table, from seventh years to first, rose to their feet. Most also drew their wands. Malfoy and his group did not seem the slightest bit concerned. They kept coming until Malfoy was directly across the table from Harry. Malfoy cleared his throat dramatically.

"I have come to express my most humble and sincere apologies for what I did to you Harry." he began in precise voice that rang with rehearsal. Draco's eyes glimmered with laughter. 

"Though I was not acting of my own free will, I remember the terrible things I did, and these actions will haunt me until my dying day. I only hope you may some how find it in yourself to forgive me, for failing to break through the imperious curse, and for the pain I have caused you." 

Malfoy finished and the hall waited with baited breath for a response. Dumbledore had let him off with an apology. _There has to be more to it then that. Dumbledore couldn't be that stupid, or naive. Harry thought as he looked toward the ancient man at the head table. Dumbledore stared back passively. __But he always has a plan. The thought filled his mind. _He could be planning to spy on Malfoy, he could be using him as a hostage against his father, he could be doing anything and it wouldn't really matter. He let Malfoy come back, and he didn't even warn me._  Harry felt something cold rise up inside him. It did not constrict around his heart to suffocate and strangle him as Voldemort's hateful intrusions did.  Instead it was an expanding hollowness, in which Malfoy's words echoed. _

Laughter poured from Harry's mouth. The sound exploded off the walls and startled the post owls in the rafters. He could not find words to express himself. He laughed so hard his eyes watered. Ron's voice cut through the sound.

"Haunt you till your dying day, will it? Don't worry Malfoy. You won't have to suffer long." 

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, for threatening your fellow student, Weasley," said a cool voice from behind them. 

They whirled. Professor Snape stood there glaring. He could not look down his nose at Ron, as Ron had grown several inches taller then him, but he impressed upon them their unworthiness none the less. Harry looked up at him the laughter still bubbling intermittently from his throat.

"Did you write Malfoy's little speech for him Professor?" Harry asked loudly. "It was very convincing. You could get a job at the Ministry."

Before Snape could react, with detentions or point deductions, Professor McGonagall swept up to them.

"You've said you're piece Mr. Malfoy. Return to your table. Potter, Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, here are your schedules." 

She waved her wand and rolls of parchment appeared in their hands.

"Go up to the defense class room now. The new Professor may need help setting up."

They nodded and stalked off. As Harry walked out the door he could not help but give Dumbledore an icy glare. 

*****

            As Potter and his little gang of worshipers marched out of the hall Snape returned to his seat at the head table. He went back to picking at the runny and unappetizing eggs the elves had prepared for breakfast.  Malfoy and his cronies sat down to their meal, chattering triumphantly about whatever great victory they thought they had won. _All he had to do was sound sincere, even a Hufflepuff could have pulled off a better fake apology. His father spends thousands of galleons to get a ministry pardon for him, and he risks it all for ego, he thought__.  Sounds a bit familiar doesn't it? asked a little voice in the back of his head. The voice sounded almost like Dumbledore.   _

            He looked down the table at the ancient man, who was now filling out the crossword in the _Quibbler_. _He must have had a hand in it. Snape though miserably. Potter and Weasley may have somehow manager an outstanding O.W.L. in potions, with enough help from their mud-blood girlfriend, but there was no way in Hades Neville Longbottom could do better then Poor._

            He looked up as muttering broke out at the Slytherin table. _Oh Joy! My new headache has arrived. Verdad walked into the hall and slouched into a seat in the seventh year area of the table. If she was still there when the seventh years came down to breakfast there was sure to be hexing. _The girl will have to learn the pecking order anyway_, he thought, not getting up. She scooped food onto her plate as if it was her last meal and proceeded to cram that food down her throat with both spoon and fingers.  The ring protruding from the center of her lip did not slow her down in the slightest. As if sensing him watching she looked up at the head table, caught his eye, and winked._

            He felt the vein in his temple stand out. He got out his wand and conjured up the schedules for his students. Verdad's was at the very top of the pile. She was starting off in third year classes, although she clamed never to have attended a school before. Dumbledore had thought the age difference would be too great a distraction if they put her in with the first years. _I still don't believe she's fourteen. He thought looking at the tall girl, whose face was half hidden by her curly black hair.  But St. Mungo's had confirmed it. Dumbledore had dragged her there, then in front of the Ministry, still catatonic after the collapse of Azkaban. He insisted she be treated and allowed to attend school. __How the old man ever got involved with that one is well beyond me, he thought. As Snape was the head of her house, the Headmaster had thought it only fair to provide him with a copy of her Ministry record; four muggles killed with accidental magic, though the report did make it sound entirely un-accidental, assault on five different Ministry agents with muggle weapons, not to mention fifty odd escape attempts and property damage in the hundred galleon range.   _

            A group seventh year Slytherin girls walk pompously into the hall, and immediately noticed the girl in their place. They surrounded her seat, blocking the teacher's view. Snape could hear some angry muttering in the group, then over it all Verdad laughed. One of the seventh years, _Mordra Avery if I'm not mistaken, pulled a wand. Snape jumped to his feet, too late. Mordra shrieked and clutched her leg, falling over. He strode around the teacher's table, sweeping down on the group like a giant bird of prey. The seventh years backed away._

            "What is the problem here?" he demanded in a voice just above a whisper.

            Verdad turned to him, her bizarre speckled eyes staring into his. She smirked slightly, and then inclined her head toward the girl on the ground, who was still writhing in agony as she pulled at the piece of metal jammed in her leg. Verdad spoke in a very innocent tone.

 "She's taken my fork, Professor." 

*****

            As they climbed the stairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom an icy draft blew down on them. Harry's scar prickled and his fingers tightened around his wand. He forced the issue of Draco from his mind. They had a double session of defense first period, but the teacher had not appeared at breakfast. Some students had muttered that the Headmaster was going to be teaching, but he had made no announcement. A few had speculated a ministry replacement was on the way.

 Harry took the lead. Ron and Hermione followed closely behind him, and Neville was again last. The rest of the Gryffindors were still at breakfast. When they came to the top of the stairs they paused. The hallway had been changed. Last year magical portraits of landscapes and famous wizards had lined the way to the classroom, but now the stone walls were bare. The torches that burned in sconces were gone as well. The only light came from small red tea candles lining the right side of the corridor. The plane wooden door of the classroom had been replaced by a huge stone archway, carved with hundreds of runes. The double doors that hung closed beneath the arch were carved as well, but instead of archaic symbols, two faces bulged out of the wood.  Candlelight flickered across them, flinging shadows. The left face was female, with thick lips and almond shaped eyes. Her hair was a mass of serpents and insect legs, and her smiling mouth was filled with polished fangs. The face on the right was male, with a heavy brow and a pair of horns. The lower half of his face was a spider's mouth and all the veins stood out of his wooden skin. There were no knobs or handles.

            "Anybody want to get an early lunch?" asked Ron, as he stared at the right hand door.

            Harry was about to say yes when the doors swung inward of their own accord. The four Gryffindors looked at each other tensely. Harry took the lead again and they entered. The doors slammed shut behind them. There were no handles on the inside either.        

            The classroom had been expanded since the previous year and was much better illuminated then the hall. Sunlight streamed in through high windows causing bits of airborne dust to glow. Two rows of tables ran up the center of the classroom. On either side of the door countless cauldrons simmered. Racks of ingredients hung above them, with enough disgusting things in them to make even Professor Snape squirm. 

The right hand wall, which housed all of the windows, was plastered with life-size magical paintings. Dark Creatures and Dark Wizards sulked and paced their canvas prisons. A lady vampire leaned against the frame of her portrait licking her fangs. She blew a kiss at Neville, who quickly looked away. 

Harry's eyes were drawn to a magical moving photograph of a tired looking man. He was posed, sitting on a stool by a window. He looked nervous, wringing his hands, and as pale light shined through the window he looked terrified. The portrait screamed silently and Harry stumbled backwards. The man in the picture fell over and writhed on the floor, his face and hands contorted and stretched. His clothing tore and fur sprouted from his skin. The transformation took less then a minute. The werewolf lurched to its feet and its amber eyes glared out at him. It charged forward. Harry put up his wand, but the werewolf vanished a moment before it reached the frame. The tired man was back sitting on his stool.

"Poor Professor Lupin, the same thing must happen to him." whispered Neville, who had walked up next to him. Harry could only nod. He wanted badly to tear the photograph from the wall and free the poor man from an endless miserable cycle. Hermione gasped and they all looked at her. She stood by the left hand wall, which was covered, floor to ceiling, in books.

"Most of these are from the ministry's restricted text list," she said in an excited whisper.

 The four Gryffindors turned as a raspy whisper echoed from the front of the room. The angle of the sunlight blinded them to the front most wall, and they had to walk forward into the shadows to see it.      

Two huge chalk boards stood on twisted iron stands. On the wall, a few feet behind the boards, was a bizarre display. Countless objects hung there, covering it entirely. Clothes, musical instruments, cookware, and other ordinary items were attached near the ceiling. Below them hung ancient muggle weapons; spears, swords, shield, bows, arrows, blow guns, and chains. Near the floor were items of a more obviously magical nature. There was an empty birdcage from which a fluttering noise emerged. Cloth dolls, some with runes painted on them, others stuck full of pins, hung above ropes made of hair and tied with intricate patterns of knots. Carved bowls and what looked like primitive dentistry tools sat on a rickety wooden shelf. A basket of loosely woven reeds held a bleached skull which snapped its jaws at them. Three shrunken heads, tied up together by their long gray hair, whispered softly in a language Harry could not identify. Jewelry made with bits of bone and teeth hung over an abstract painting, whose canvas looked like uncured skin.  The collection seemed endless and merciless. 

At the base of the wall, exactly in the center, was a throne like rattan rocking chair. The seat was woven around huge antlers instead of wood. Harry could not guess the animal they came from. The ends of the antlers rose high above the back rest of the chair. More voodoo dolls and bits of macabre decoration hung from those as well. Tiny silver bells were strung between the tops of them. They jingled softly.    

Despite the other marvels and horrors of the room, the chair's occupant soon held all their attention. The corpse was wrapped up in heavy embroidered blankets, and only its face and the shriveled tips of its fingers lay exposed. The skin was yellowed and leathery and pulled tight across the sharp bones of its skull. Wisps of orange hair peeked out of the hood the blankets formed around its head.  The eye sockets were sunken and the lids were closed, a situation Harry was very grateful for. The lipless mouth lay open, revealing surprisingly white teeth. So slowly it was almost imperceptible, the chair rocked back and forth.   

 Behind them the doors burst open.

"Hello Potter," said Malfoy. He grinned sinisterly as he walked in, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. "Did you like my apology? I am sorry you know. Sorry…"

"Sorry I lived?" Harry cut him off. 

Malfoy continued to smirk. _How can Dumbledore keep doing this to me? It's bad enough I have Potions class and Care of Magical Creatures with that…that… Harry could not think of an accurate word. _

"How can you say something like that Harry?" asked Malfoy as other students began to file into the room behind them.  

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville seated themselves at front right table. Malfoy and his gang sat down at the table behind them. Ron turned furiously.

"Sit somewhere else, you boot licking piece of filth," he growled. The other Gryffindors and Slytherins stood watching.  

"Why?" Malfoy asked innocently.

"Because I said so." Ron growled again.

"Everyone knows you tried to kill Harry." said Seamus Finnegan stepping out of the group of 6th years. During much of the previous year Seamus was convinced and proclaimed loudly that Harry was a raving lunatic. Harry smiled faintly. Everything seemed a bit overly ironic lately.

  "If you think we're going to let you sit behind him and throw curses, then you're as stupid as they are ugly." Seamus declared pointing at Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy turned in his seat. "Shut your mouth half blood. How's your muggle father by the way? Still work at that bank on Fifth Street in Fairfield?"

Seamus was a blur of black robes. He tackled Malfoy, in what Harry recognized as a rugby move, and slammed the blond boy's head into the floor. Crabbe and Goyle tried to pull him off, but Seamus' fellow Gryffindors; Dean, Ron, and Neville were on them a second later. The Slytherin Pansy Parkinson drew her wand, but not as fast as Hermione. Instantly every student from both houses was fighting with wands or fists.

The tiny silver bells hanging across the top of the antler chair rang sharply, and the doors slammed shut. Only Harry and Hermione seemed to hear them.  They turned towards the front of the room. The shrunken corpse in the chair raised its head and its eyelids sprang open.  Two round black stones were crammed deep into its sockets and a point of red light glowed in the center of each of them. Its mouth moved. The shriveled flesh rasped across the too white teeth, producing a soft hissing mumble. The fingers twitched. Harry's scar twinged.

"Get down!" he shouted.

The Gryffindors instantly obeyed, throwing themselves to the floor. A silvery light flashed across the room. A few Slytherins saw it coming and dove down as well, but only Malfoy and Millicent were quick enough. The rest of their class mates turned to stone as the light passed through them.

"Reducto!" shouted Harry, knocking all the tables onto their sides. The 6th years scrambled to shelter behind them. The silver light washed over the room again, but no one else was petrified.

"We need to get out of here. Hermione," Harry said. "Ron and I'll try and distract it. Get the doors open. The rest of you go with her, drag the tables for cover. When you get out, run and find Dumbledore."

Most nodded, but Neville, Seamus and Dean shook their heads. 

"We're helping you," Neville said.

Harry was about to argue but his scar twinged again. 

"GO!" he shouted. As he spoke the tables jumped into the air, exposing the students.

Lavender shrieked and broke for the door. A red light flashed toward her, but her friend Parvati tackled her at the last moment, knocking her out of the way. Seamus, Neville and Dean fired stunning curses at the thing in the chair but their jets of red light faded to nothing before they got within three feet of it. Harry caught Ron's eye and pointed at the chalk boards. Harry heard the doors swing open just as he and Ron shouted.

 "Wingardium Leviosa!" 

The chalkboards swung into the air, blocking the creature's view of the room. Hermione shrieked and Harry and Ron whirled about. 

The doors had opened, but not into a Hogwarts hallway. Instead, through the arch, they could see nothing but misty darkness. Long slimy tentacles reached into the room. One had pinned Hermione's arms to her sides and was dragging her away as she kicked and shouted. Ron forgot about the chalkboard and ran towards her. He tried to blast the tentacle with curses but they had no effect. He dropped his wand and grabbed her around the waist, trying to pull her free. Another tentacle swept his legs out of under him, and they were both dragged into the blackness. 

Harry's insides felt numb. He took a staggering step and then sat on the floor, unaware of the battle around him. _This can't be happening, not again. Not again. A silver light flashed past his head. It struck Draco Malfoy but Harry could not care less. _This can't be happening._ _

"Harry get up!" Someone was shaking him by the front of his robes. He looked up at Neville, whose eyes were huge and sad and terrifying all at once.

"Harry get up!" he shouted again, flinching as a red light flashed over them. "Help me kill it."

Harry blinked up at Neville. "Help me Harry." Neville said again.

 The numbness did not go away but Harry jumped to his feet and turned on the thing in the chair. The chalkboards lay on their sides ignored. The thing sat watching them. Its stone eyes glowed and it mumbled with its withered mouth. The desks and chairs flew to the sides of the room, leaving Harry and Neville alone and exposed. Harry saw no one else actively fighting. Dean lay unmoving on the floor near the throne like chair. Lavender, Parvati and Millicent huddled behind one of the huge cauldrons in the back. All the rest had been turned to stone. The thing pointed a finger at Neville. A red light shot towards him.

"Protego!" Neville bellowed, and the light was sent hurtling back towards its caster. The light vanished before getting near it.

As Neville did this, Harry threw a blasting hex at the creature, but that too, failed to reach it. The skeletal thing raised its hands and a huge wave of green light, stretching from wall to wall, flew at them. There was nowhere to hide. Harry stepped in front of Neville. The light washed over him.

It was like an electrical shock. His arms and legs twitched and his eyes shot open. 

"Protego!" Harry shouted waving his arm, only to realize he was no longer holding his wand. A few people laughed nervously. It took him a moment to realize he was still lying on his back on the floor. Suddenly Ron and Hermione's faces appeared above him.

"Alright Harry?" Ron asked nervously. Without thinking Harry grabbed both of them around the necks in a strangling hug. 

"You're alive!" Harry declared in a cracking voice.

"Um well yes…" said Hermione as she and Ron tried to untangle themselves.

"Get a room Potter!" called Malfoy, and his cronies laughed.

"Shut up Malfoy!" shouted Seamus and Dean together.

Harry looked around in confusion. The chair in the front of the room was empty.

"What happened?" he asked, allowing his friends to escape, "Where'd it go?"

"I'm over here actually." 

 A strange echoing voice echoed from the back of the room. Harry turned. The skeletal creature, in its cocoon of blankets, was floating over the still forms of Lavender, Parvati and Millicent, who lay sprawled on the floor by the door. It waved its knobby fingers and the girls sprang awake.

"You're Potter, are you?" the voice continued. 

"Yes." Harry said slowly.

"You get fifteen points, which house were you? Lions or snakes?"

"I'm in Gryffindor."

"Fifteen points to Gryffindor then, find a seat now." said the voice. 

The sound did not come from the creature, but instead from the walls around it. Ron and Hermione helped Harry up and he sat at a table with them. Lavender and the other girls climbed to their feet. They looked in confusion at the class and the thing floating above them.

"Name and house please." The voice asked.

"Lavender Brown, Gryffindor."

"Sixteen points, go find a seat." The voice instructed.

"Parvati Patil, Gryffindor."

"Sixteen points, go sit. And you missy?"

 "Millicent Bulstrode, Slytherin."

"Sixteen points, get going," the voice echoed and the skeletal thing made little shooing motions.

Harry looked around the room. Everyone was seated nervously at a table; everyone but Neville Longbottom. Harry whirled, searching for him.

"Now for the big prize," the voice said. 

It raised a hand and a human shaped shadow formed on ground. It expanded and filed out, taking on three dimensions. The thing snapped its fingers. A howling wind passed through the room. The darkness covering the human shape on the ground blew away, like dust off an old piece of furniture. Free of the shadows, Neville sat up, eyes wide and gasping for air.

 "Name and house?" the voice asked. Neville looked around blearily. 

"Neville Longbottom, 14 Stormbridge Way…" he said blinking rapidly.

Lavender and her friends giggled.

"Slytherin or Gryffindor dear?" the voice asked.

"Gryffindor…"

"Fifty points to Gryffindor. Find a seat," the voice said.

Neville got to his feet and walked backwards to the table at the front of the room where Harry and the others sat. He did not turn his back on the skeletal creature. As soon as he was in a chair it floated to the front of the room, settling gently in the rattan throne. The chalkboards righted themselves with a loud bang, and everyone jumped. Neville fell out of his seat.

"Your first homework assignment is to write an essay on what you did wrong in class today…" 

            The spoon rattled against his teeth, and he threw it into the bowl in disgust. Harry looked around the hall at all the other students attempting to eat dinner. He could tell from the shell-shocked expressions who had had Defense class that day. All during potions class his hands had shaken, and Snape took every opportunity to creep up behind him and make a startlingly loud noise. No one in class was surprised when Harry's potion blew up in his face, halfway through the lesson. In charms class he was still so jumpy he nearly set Professor Flitwick on fire with a warming charm. The adrenalin would not go away.  

            He looked toward the head table. Headmaster Dumbledore was calmly eating his dinner. Snape was glaring. Professor Graypond had not come to this meal either, though Harry had some doubt she was capable of eating. Ron and Hermione continued to argue about who had done what wrong in their "surprise exam" in class that day.  They did not seem particularly upset by it.

            "I'm going to bed early." Harry declared getting up.

            His friends just nodded. He walked up the stairs feeling exhausted and wired all at once.

            "Harry!" shouted a voice.

             Harry jumped, almost falling over a banister. Neville jogged up the stairs after him. Neville had been almost completely silent since the end of defense class that day.

            "Sorry, Sorry. I just wanted to ask you something." Neville said.

            "What?"

            "It's about the thing in class today…"

            "Oh. How did that end anyway?"

            "After you got hit with the green light, I thought you were dead or something. Professor Graypond came flying out of her chair and I tried to throw a few of the tables at her. They didn't get anywhere close. Lavender and the other girls tried to close the door and they got hit with another wave of green light. I thought it was only me left." Neville said in a small voice.

            "I tried a few more hexes and nothing work, and she had me backed into a corner…" Neville paused again.

            "What happened?" Harry asked.

            "I tried to use an unforgivable on her. It's just I couldn't think of anything else to do, and I was so angry and…"

            Neville seemed terrified that he had even said the word unforgivable. _I guess that's what's been bothering him so much._

            "Which one did you use?" Harry asked.

            "The killing curse," Neville said, looking at the floor. "Nothing happened when I tried to cast it though. Then all these shadows poured out of the floor. I think I passed out then."

            "I don't think anyone's mad at you. The Professor gave you fifty points."

            "You don't understand. I..." Neville trailed off uncertainly. "With my parents…and I swore I'd never…"

            Neville looked back at the floor. 

            "You're not the only student who's ever tried to use one." Harry said in a low voice as they arrived at Gryffindor tower.

            "The Slytherins maybe but…"

            "I used the crucio curse on Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry admitted in a hushed whisper. "It didn't work so well either."

            Neville's eyes widened. "You? You did? When?"

            "After she pushed Sirius through and I ran after her. Dumbledore didn't see though."

            "Oh."

            There was a long awkward silence. Harry started to walk away.

            "Wait! That isn't what I wanted to ask you about." Neville said.

            "What?"

            "I wanted to ask you… I wanted to know why you did it."

            "Why I threw the cures at Bellatrix?"

            "No, I mean in class, why did you step in the way of that curse?"

            "Because I thought it was going to hit you." Harry answered, confused.

            "But why?"

            "I don't understand."

            "Aren't you mad at me? I smashed the Prophesy about You-Know-Who and now we don't know how to beat him and hundreds of people will die and…and…it's my fault."

            Harry shook his head. "That was my fault more then anyone else's. Neville that Prophesy didn't tell how to beat Voldemort. That stupid useless thing, I should have given it to the Death Eaters. Let them worry over it."

            "What do you mean?" Neville asked sound hopeful and horrified all at once.

            "There was another copy of that prophesy. Trelawney made it, right before we were born," Harry said with a snort. "You want to know what it said? It was almost about you anyway." Harry asked as they entered the empty 6th year dorm.

            Neville nodded.

            "Voldemort heard this part of it too. That's why he murdered my parents, trying to get to me. Trelawney said that a child born at the end of July, to parents who had defied Voldemort three times, would have the power to defeat him. He had two choices, me or you. The second part he didn't hear though. The one he attacked and marked would be the one who got the power. It also said one has to kill the other. That's really great, isn't it Neville? Kill Voldemort or die."

            Neville just looked in shock.

            "Who else knows?" Neville asked.

            "Now? You, me, and Dumbledore. I don't know if he ever bothered to tell my parents."

            "It didn't say what power you were supposed to have?" Neville asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

            "No."      

            There was another long awkward pause.

            "Oh. I guess I'll go finish my charms essay now." Neville said, and then scurried off.

            Harry watched Neville jog back down to the common room with his books. He knew he probably should not have told Neville, but he felt better, as if he was not carrying so much on his own. Of course Neville had not exactly volunteered to share the burden. It was too early to sleep, and too late to go back to dinner.  Harry sat down on his bed and sighed. After a few minutes he pulled out parchment and quill from his trunk and began to write. 

*****

            The tap water tasted odd. _Odder then usual anyway_, thought Jeremy Clements as he took a drink of the slightly cloudy stuff. He sat down on the couch and hit the remote. The football match was nearly half over, and unless there was an incredible, earth shaking miracle England was not going to win. _The Brazilians are all on steroids anyhow_, he thought with a disgruntled snort. _In a fair match we could beat them with out cleats, or a goalie. His stomach clenched painfully. __Stupid lazy politicians can't even get us healthy water to drink. He poured the rest of the glass onto the dead potted plant by the coffee table. _

            His stomach turned again just as England scored a goal. He groaned, and started for the bathroom. The living room spun as he got to his feet, and bright sparks of light popped before his eyes. Forgetting the bathroom, he staggered towards the phone. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground. Burning pain ran through his veins and it grew more intense with every beat of his heart. His fingers caught the cord of the phone and he pulled. It crashed to the ground next to him. He pounded the key pad.

            "Operator assistance, how may I help you?" asked a cheerful voice.

            "Help…Doctor…sick…" he wheezed, his chest contracted and he could not breathe.

            "Sir, do you want me to connect you to emergency services?"

            "Help…me…please…" his throat closed up.

            He clawed at his neck, but he could not draw air. The room seemed to be shrinking around him. He turned towards the television. It was a tiny box on the floor. He waved his hand before his eyes. His fingers were bulbous and distorted and the veins bulged out like horrible black worms. His skin puffed outward and he felt as if all his bones were breaking. The television smashed and he felt the walls of his apartment crushing in on him. The plaster cracked and the beams shook. Jeremy Clements tried to shout for help, but a strange wailing shriek tore from his mouth instead. Someone in the apartment next door screamed.   


	9. The view from here

Disclaimer: I make no money.

Warning: PG13 ish

Author's note. You reviewers rule! Thanks muchly!

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 8**

**What the Pizza Man Saw**

            Remus Lupin sat at the kitchen table starring at the clock. It was 2pm. The hands ticked back and forth, but did not get any closer to 5pm, when he could have another scotch and claim it officially as his before dinner drink. _It is technically before dinner though, he thought morosely. He had finished all his reports, done all the requested research, and did not have another meeting scheduled for three days. He thought of himself as a rational, efficient, and capable person, but sitting in his former friend's empty house with nothing to do, and no one to talk to, was starting to gnaw at him. __Now I understand why Sirius was always asking me to go on a beer run. He got up and was looking through the cabinet for the bottle that Tonks always seemed to put back in the wrong place, when something tapped loudly on an upstairs window. He sprinted from the kitchen with undignified enthusiasm.   _

            A snowy white owl was perched on the windowsill, with an envelope in its beak. He struggled with the latch for several seconds before realizing he was turning it the wrong way. When he succeeded the owl hopped in, giving him a strange look along with the letter.

            "Thank you Hedwig." He said to the bird. He tossed her an owl treat from his pocket and sank to the floor reading.   

            _            Dear Professor Lupin,_

_The trip to school was relatively uneventful, except for the odd new girl, with a million metal rings in her face, who spooked Neville as we were getting into a compartment. She got sorted into Slytherin. Speaking of Slytherin, did you know Dumbledore let Draco Malfoy come back to school? I was a bit surprised._

            Remus put down the letter for a moment. He had not been told. The last he heard the Ministry still wanted the boy for questioning. _What could Dumbledore be playing at?_ He continued to read.  

_He just gave a stupid fake apology and I don't think he even got detention. You said you wanted to hear about the new defense teacher? Well she's completely insane, cruel and I'm not sure she's alive. The first thing she did in class was attack everyone. I thought she'd killed Ron and Hermione, this thing dragged them through an arch with nothing on the other side and…_

A large portion of the letter had been scratched out. Curios, Remus waved his wand over it and cast a restoring charm.

_It was like when Sirius died. They were just gone. I couldn't think, I just sat down on the floor like an idiot. Do you think Dumbledore told her to test me? If he did I failed. I froze, and if Neville hadn't snapped me out of it… _

The normal part of the letter resumed.

_            Every thing was all right, she just stunned us. Professor Graypond looks like something they dragged out of the bog, and she hasn't come to any meals in the Great hall. She doesn't even have any eyes. Some of the stuff in her classroom makes the junk we hauled out of Grimmauld place lock cute and cuddly. There are a mess of rumors about who and what she is. A boy in Hufflepuff has the most popular theory so far. He thinks Dumbledore reanimated the corpse of You-Know-Who's mother in law. Everyone had a good laugh at that, but now a lot of people are starting to believe she's related to him somehow. They're asking me if they look alike, and they don't. One's a disgusting gray snake and the other is a shriveled up old mummy. They keep asking me the same dumb question though. Not much else to say really. A potion blew up in my face today, that's about it. How have you been doing? Is your leg all right? I'll see you around I suppose. Be careful._

_Sincerely_

_H.J.P._

_P.S. I can't believe dad pulled off that move against Slytherin in the championship. I'm fairly certain it was physically impossible. Thanks again for the Pensieve.  _

            It was not a very long letter but it killed ten minutes, and then another ten as he reread it looking for secret codes or hidden meaning. He tried putting the last letter of each sentence together with the first and tenth letters to form words, but that lead nowhere. With a sigh he looked up at the clock. 2:30pm.      

            He was about to go get his before dinner drink, 5o'clock be damned, when a huge cloud of flame appeared in the center of the room. It blinked out after a second leaving a golden feather and a letter on the floor. Remus snatched up the paper.

            _Go to 1280 Grounding Street, London_

_            Search the premise without detection._

            The letter was unsigned but he knew who sent it. Only Albus Dumbledore delivered post by Phoenix. Remus raised his wand and disapparated.

The Aurors crept over the rubble like ants, wandering zigzagging paths and turning at random places. Only three of them had come to inspect the ruins of the muggle apartment complex, and none of them seemed to take the job overly seriously. The sun was sinking and they looked about ready to depart. Remus adjusted the Extendable Ear he had bought from the Weasley twins, redirecting it to the center of the ruined building. 

"Reckon we've wasted enough time here?" asked Aaron Blingkit. 

Remus had never met the man in person but his reputation as lazy bigoted prick had preceded him.

"I think so," said  Liza Coel, another Auror on the unfriendly list.

"As if anyone gives a knut if You-Know-Who knocks down a few of these rats' nests. The muggles residing in this filth are better off dead." Blingkit continued.

"Right then, lets get Johnson and go. His turn to file the report, right?"

"It always is." said Blingkit with a laugh.

The pair marched over to the third, and with a faint crack they disapparated. Remus climbed down the fire escape and crossed the street. He circled it once from the outside. The building had caved inward, rather then being crushed from the outside. That eliminated giants from the suspect's lists, as they would never crawl into such a confined space.  Some very large thing had gotten in though. Remus climbed up a sloping heap of bricks, past the remains of the walls.  He inspected the rusted I-beams that had held up the decrepit building. There was a strange smell in the air, something bitter and murky that he could not name, but definitely magic. 

He cast a revealing charm over the rubble, but there were no hidden traps or illusions left to discover.  He put a muggle repelling charm on the outside of the building, and began to levitate debris out of the center of the ruin. The muggle police had come through with dogs and removed the bodies, but the people who had lived there left a lot of themselves behind.  There were bits of clothes and broken dishes. He found a yellowed photograph of an old woman with a baby on her lap. His stomach clenched as he uncovered a coloring book. There was endless memorabilia of the 157 people who had died there, but nothing that identified their killer. No scorch marks from dragons, no scales or claw marks or spore, nothing he could track or research. It was as if something giant had apparated into the center of the building and then disapparated as it crashed down. But nothing that big could apparate. Even a half giant would have a horrible time trying. He scrambled over the ruins one last time looking for evidence of a blasting curse. A familiar scent drifted up with the dust he disturbed. His head shot up and he whirled around.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted a quavering voice.

Remus was knocked sprawling, and his wand flew from his fingers. He rolled back to his feet just in time to see Peter Pettigrew catch his wand in a silvery florescent hand. The short, colorless, shaking man pointed a wand at Remus, but only stared at him. The former friends watched each other across the broken building.

"Get on with it then," called Remus.

The little man flinched. He walked no closer, but did not leave. The sun sank below the horizon, and still he did not move.

"If you're going to try and murder me Peter, get to it already. I've got other things to do with my time."

"I never meant for anyone to be murdered," Peter said quietly.

"Lily and James were an accident then?" Remus said in an icy voice that would have chilled the devil himself, or at least Severus Snape.

"They didn't listen. He offered them asylum. He offered it to Sirius and you as well. All you had to do was pledge loyalty to him."

"And give up a child to be murdered? You left that part out Peter."

"One child for all your lives! The Dark Lord wasn't unreasonable, but he won't allow a threat like that to go unacknowledged. His offer is still on the table Remus."

"Do you honestly think I would take anything from Voldemort?" Remus bellowed.

The words echoed off the crumbling walls, startling pigeons. Peter shrank even farther away.

"Remus, listen to me. He'll get the boy anyway. The Dark Lord will take Hogwarts before this ends Remus, and if he gets to the boy first, the killing curse will be a mercy. You could do it painlessly, bring him the body and he'd reward you, help all the werewolves. Dumbledore can't help you Remus, and nothing can stop The Dark Lord."

Peter talked higher and faster with every word. His eyes darted about the rubble. He seemed frightened by every sound, even when it came from his own mouth.         

"Nothing can stop him Peter? Lily Potter stopped him for thirteen years!  You brought him back Peter. You've damned us to this all over again." Remus felt his fist clenching.

"This isn't my fault. Nothing could stop his return. Remus you were always smart. Think! Lily isn't here anymore, and her son can't help you. He couldn't even save Sirius."

Remus charged toward him, sprinting over the rubble as fast as his legs would carry him. He was prepared to dodge and dive away from curses, but none came. Peter dropped Remus' wand among the broken bricks and disapparated. Remus skidded to a stop on the place where the rat had stood. He looked about the wreckage. This seemingly random act of cruelty was part of something bigger. He could feel it. This was not about him. Pettigrew could not have known he was coming. 

A howling gust of wind passed over him, and he wanted for the second time in his life to give up his humanity and just howl with it: no morals, no memories, and no thoughts.  But the moon was only a quarter full. He sighed again as a muggle balloon floated in front of it.

*****

            Severus Snape returned his omnioculars to a pocket of his cloak. Lupin had been staring meditatively at the sky for twenty minutes and showed no signs of losing interest. _Who know how an animal's mind works anyway. _Snape thought miserably. He could see why Dumbledore thought the wolf needed watching though. It would be very interesting indeed to see if Lupin reported Pettigrew's offer. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and slowly Snape turned around. He felt watched, but saw nothing but the dark roof tops around him. He thought he saw someone move in the alley below him but by the time he had gotten his omnioculars out it was gone. A shadow moved to his left and he spun towards it, wand raised. It was nothing but a large balloon, drifting over the roof across the street. His instincts told him it was time to leave. He raised his wand and disapparated.

****

             They shifted in their seats trying to find a comfortable position in the cramped van. The outside proclaimed it part of a pizza delivery service, but the grumbling stomachs and the massive amounts of electronics inside showed it to be otherwise. An eerie green light shined up on their faces as they watched the monitors

"I told you not to bring the mini-blimp in so close. They can sense it." said the short gray haired man in the Hawaiian shirt.

            "Quit being paranoid Wallace, none of them have ever noticed before," said the man in the tweed jacket, as he set the joystick down. 

            "What do you mean? We've lost twenty cameras this month!"

            "But they don't know they're cameras."

            The door of the van swung open and a woman in a ski mask climbed in.

            "Quit cha'ering, you two. You want to bring 'em all down on our 'eads? I 'eard you 'alf way up the block."

            She carefully pulled off the mask. It tangled on some of her earrings and the men in the van snickered a bit. 

            "Got printouts for me?" she asked, absentmindedly scratching at the scar that ran up the left side of her neck and onto her chin.

            "We do indeed," said Wallace, typing a command into his keyboard.  

            The printer whirled to life and six sheets dropped out into a little tray. The woman picked them up. 

            "Recognize anyone?" asked the man in the tweed jacket. 

            She set three of the grainy photos in front of them. 

"These three are Blankers. They were at that mess on Tourney Street two weeks ago. Ten people couldn't remember their own addresses after. This one." She put out the photo off a very tired looking man in a thread bare cloak, "was bringing a kid to King's Cross when Reapers showed up last Sunday, put up quite a fight. He's an Outsider."

"And these other two?" asked the man in the tweed jacket as she put down the last two pictures.

There was a squinty, rat like man with a glowing hand, and a sallow faced man with oily shoulder length black hair. Both wore dark robes and looked extremely suspicious.

"Never seen them before, but I'd have to say Reapers in a clinch, especially the greasy one.  Did you get that shouting match on tape? Could be insightful." The woman asked.

"Picture only, the bugs we planted burned out as soon as the Blankers appeared," said Wallace.

"That's fine," said the woman. "I read lips."

******

"And so you must be especially careful and attentive as you review your vanishing and conjuring spells this week. Without a strong and thorough understanding of them, even thinking about apparating would be foolhardy," said Professor McGonagall as she paced between the rows of desk.

"This year you will learn…" she was interrupted half way through her sentence by a faint giggle. 

All eyes turned to the back of the room. Head down on his desk, with his face hidden in his arms, Harry Potter giggled hysterically. Ron Weasley leaned across the isle and shook his shoulder.

"Harry wake up!" Weasley hissed loudly.

Potter sat up in his seat, but his eyes were still closed. The giggling paused. Trying to regain the class's attention Professor McGonagall returned to her lecture. _That boy will be scrubbing floors till Quidditch starts, she thought.  _

"You will be learning the basics of space transformation, so each of you will…"

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  

Every person in the class jumped a foot in the air as the laughter echoed off the walls. Potter's mouth hung open and he roared with laughter, rocking in his chair.

"Detention!" McGonagall started to say. 

Weasley and Granger leapt from their seats. Weasley grabbed Potter's shoulders and shook him.

"Snap out of it Harry!"

The plea had no effect. The other boy continued to rock and the laughing grew louder. McGonagall was about to deduct points when Weasley drew back a hand. He slapped Potter so hard the boy fell from his chair. The laughter shut off immediately. For a moment she was too stunned to move.

"Happened again did it?" asked Potter weakly as his two friends pulled him to his feet. He was sweating, pale, and shaking. His scar glowed a disturbingly unnatural shade of red.

"All three of you! My office! This instant."  McGonagall said sharply.

. McGonagall opened the door of her office and waved them inside.

"What was so funny Potter, that you felt it necessary to disrupt my class, and Weasley, what possessed you to attack him?"

"It worked, and he's happy because it worked and they don't know." Potter said vaguely. He was swaying slightly.

"He was having a vision professor." said Weasley. "Well not really a vision, but its happened before, when You-Know-Who is having a big mood swing Harry does too."

"And so you knocked him out of his chair?"

"I wasn't trying to do that. Slapping him worked last time."

"This has happened before?" McGonagall demanded. _And what else aren't you telling me_, she thought.  "What did you see Potter?"

"Didn't see really. He's happy, very happy. It worked, but they don't know. All the other times it failed, but now it worked." Potter said. "I don't feel so well."

Granger put a hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. The second she touched his scar, he lost his lunch on the floor of the office. She jumped back just quickly enough to save her new shoes.          

            "Take him to the hospital wing," said she, pinching the bridge of her nose.

            The three Gryffindor walked out quickly. Weasley was nearly dragging Potter. With a wave of her wand the mess disappeared. She snatched a hand full of floo powder from the mantel and threw it into her fireplace. Green flames burst into existence.

            "Albus I need a word with you," she called.

            A moment later a tall man with a long silver beard stepped out of the fire.

            "What's wrong Minerva?" he asked gravely.

            "Potter had a vision in the middle of class. He said Tom is very happy and has just succeeded in something he has been attempting for some time. Any idea what?" she asked.

            "Many ideas yes. But nothing I can share yet." He said quietly.

            "Albus we need to put up the null-wards. He is still reaching the boy."

            "I know Minerva, but I can not help but feel Tom is waiting for us to do something like this. Still, I can think of no other way…" He trailed off and they both stared into the fire.

            "I must return to my class now. I'll see you at dinner Albus."

            He did not answer as she left the room.    


	10. Grawp and Gruel

Disclaimer: You know.

Warning: some fighting, some cursing, blah, blah, blah.

Author's note: Look at all these chapters. Go me! 

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 9**

**Grawp and Gruel**

            Harry looked nervous as he walked into the Gryffindor common room. _Of course I'd look nervous too if everyone was staring at me like that. Neville thought. All the 6th years had seen Harry crack up in transfigurations. His eyes had rolled up into his head and he had laughed like a maniac until Ron slapped him. The scary part was the voice coming out of Harry's mouth wasn't exactly Harry's. Lavender had told just about everyone in every house what had happened. Harry did not seem particularly mad about it though. He only looked tired. Neville went back to his essay on medicinal plants. His N.E.W.T. level herbology class was really eating into his free time._

            "Hey Neville." Harry said.

            Neville jumped in surprise. 

            "Hey Harry." Neville replied uncertainly.

            "I was wondering if you wanted to come with Ron, Hermione, and me to visit Hagrid this afternoon. We might be going into the forest."

            Neville starred at him in surprise. He was usually not asked to go on strange trips with Harry and his friends, in fact until the previous year, when he had insisted on going with Harry to the Department of Mysteries, Harry had purposely excluded him. Neville was very flattered to be asked along, but suspicious as well. _But if I say no, he might not ask again._

            "Sure. I'll go. I'll go put my book bag away then." Neville said, jogging quickly up the stairs to the 6th year boy's dorm.

            As he returned he heard Ron and Harry arguing in the stair well. 

            "I don't think it's a good idea is all. The fewer people that know, the better. He told everyone you fainted in front of the dementors third year, you really think he'll keep quiet about a giant?" Ron said in a loud hiss.

            "He can keep a secret; he didn't say anything about the D.A. did he?" Harry hissed back.

            "Alright, but if he tells anyone about the giant it's not my fault."

            Neville could not help himself. He walked quickly down the stairs.

            "Did you say something about a giant Ron?" he asked innocently.

            Harry gave the redhead an angry glare. Ron looked mortified.

            "Yeah, we were talking about Hagrid." Harry said. "Ready to go?"

            Neville nodded. They walked out of the common room, and down the stairs. Hermione was waiting in the entrance hall. She looked surprised when she saw Neville but did not say anything. They set off across the grounds. The air was still very warm, and Neville was sweating a bit when they reached Hagrid's hut. The half giant emerged from his lodging carrying a cross bow and a large sack. His boar hound, Fang stood drooling placidly at his side. Hagrid did not seem to notice Neville at first.

            "All set? I been look'in fir him fir two months, but he keeps moving around, and with the centaurs still in a tizzy o're that Firenze business, it hasn't been going well. Was' worse is I haven't been hear'in no complaints from anybody in the forest lately either. Last year I was up to my ears in 'he's smashed this and stomped that', and now there's noth'in. Scares me that does."   

            "Hagrid," Harry interrupted, "Is it alright if Neville comes too?"

            "Hu?" The huge bushy haired man turned towards Neville. "Oh didn't see you there Neville."

            Hagrid seemed worried, but Harry was nodding, and that apparently was enough assurance.

            "Right then, lets be off before it gets dark." Hagrid said.

They hiked into the gloomy woods, and after a few hundred yards the sunlight was blocked out completely. As they walked deeper into the forest Neville remembered Ron mentioning something about Hagrid having a little brother, the previous year. 

After several hours of walking, through a forest with no readily identifiable landmarks, Neville was ready to go home. Really, the walking was the least of his complaints. A spider the size of a horse had snatched up Ron and nearly decapitated him, before Hagrid shooed the horrible thing away as if it were a stray puppy. Then they had to hide in very pixie filled lump of shrubbery while a herd of well armed and angry looking centaurs rode past. All the pixies had of course decided they wanted to chew on Neville. And only a few minutes ago some sort of giant land going octopus had leaned out of a cave and grabbed up Harry. If Hermione wasn't along they'd probably be searching the forest for Harry's missing limbs, rather then a half giant. The only good part of the trip so far had been the bizarre plants. He was proud he could identify nearly every one he saw.  He even noticed a Slurwort plant that, even uncured, would be worth several hundred galleons in any apothecary.  _I could be rich if I could get past all those stinging nettles._ Neville laughed nervously to himself, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Sorry." He said meekly.

They were about to turn around and head back to school when Ron found it. The trail led down a stony streambed. The gravel was dented in a fairly regular pattern, with footprints as long as Hermione was tall. 

"Good eye there Ron." said Hagrid, as he rushed past them. 

Neville gapped for a moment. _I thought they meant another half giant. He felt a bizarre sort of panic rising in his chest. But the others started running so he ran with them._

Even sprinting they could barely keep the Hogwarts professor in sight, Ron and Harry quickly left Neville and Hermione behind. When they caught up again Neville was wheezing hard. Harry and Ron stood at the edge of a gully, looking down at Hagrid, who was carefully circling a small hill.

"Is the giant behind there?" Neville asked in a gasping whisper.

Harry looked at him with the tiniest hint of a smile. "Neville, meet Grawp," he said waving his hand at the hill, which shifted slightly as Hagrid touched it.

"It's alright ta come down now." Hagrid said sadly. "He's unconscious."

The four teenagers scrambled down the gulley. As they circled him, Neville realized they had been looking at the giants back. The massive creature was curled up in a fetal position, with his huge hands hiding his face. The air smelled fetid and rotten as they got close.   

"The arrow wounds must have gotten infected." Hermione said.

 Neville noticed she kept a great distance between her self and the giant.

Hagrid stood on his toes and pried back the giant's hands. The odor intensified a hundred times. Ron gagged. The giant's face was a swollen mess of green and red. Neville could barely pick out facial features. Hagrid stood starring, his shoulders sagged, and before Neville knew what was happening the huge man had burst into loud sobbing tears.

"I should a' left him wi' the others, but they were so mean ter him." He bellowed. "I've killed ma' only brother!"

"He'll be alright Hagrid," Harry said, as he patted the half giant on the back. "We'll go and find Madam Pomfrey and she'll fix him up."

"Yeh don't understand, she'll report him, she'll have ta and the Ministry'll come and…and…"

The huge man broke off sobbing. Neville looked nervously about. The Ministry had a very strong anti-giant policy. Hagrid would go to jail and his brother would be deported at the very least.

"Could you tell Dumbledore?" asked Harry gently.

Hagrid shook his head. "No if I tol' him he'd be liable too, Fudge is still looking fer excuses ter take power from him. I'll have ter turn myself in. I can't let him die. Avery ain't in charge o' the department no more, he might have a chance…"

"Maybe we could put on some bandages. Do you have many in the sack, Hagrid?" suggested Hermione as she edged closer.

"He's got infections though, but we could sneak some potions from the hospital wing," said Ron.

"We'd need gallons of them. They might not have enough of them in stock." said Harry, "They're bound to notice them gone, and it would take weeks to prepare all those potions ourselves." 

A thought hit Neville like a slap in the face. "Slurwort!" He declared.

They all turned to stare at him. "I saw one growing by the path back there, if we had a cauldron and some mandrake sap…"

Hagrid looked at him, nearly glowing with hope. "Yeh think yeh could help him Neville? Harry said you were a right genius at Herbology."

"Well if we had a cauldron, we'd need to dilute the sap of course and it would have to be peeled, and we'd need bandages like Hermione said…" Neville trailed off looking at he ground. When he looked up again they were all still starring at him.

"Make us a list Neville, we'll run back to the castle." Harry said.

After six hours of digging, dicing, peeling, stewing, stirring and slathering, Grawp the giant's face had returned to what Hagrid insisted was its natural state. Neville just nodded in agreement. The angry red swelling, green ooze, and terrible smell were gone at least. Hagrid had taken on the unpleasant task of pulling out the arrowheads still stuck in the wounds with a pair of pliers. Neville and the others sat by the small fire they had started to heat the cauldron. Neville's hands were sore and covered in little cuts and scrapes. 

"I wonder if I could put this on my resume when I apply at St. Mungo's." he joked quietly.

"So that's where you want to work?" asked Ron, "When me and Harry come in with Auror related injuries could we get a discount?"

They all laughed tiredly. Despite the aches and exhaustion Neville felt ridiculously happy. _I'm one of them, was the triumphant sentence that played over and over in his head. His happy mood shattered instantly as the sound of hoofs echoed through the gulley. They jumped to their feet, and drew their wands. Hagrid set down his gory pliers and snatched up his crossbow._

"We don't want trouble." Hagrid said loudly. "Be on yuir way."

The hoof beats drew slowly closer, and a young voice floated out of the darkness.

"Are you wizards?" 

"Some o' us." Hagrid said. 

He lowered his crossbow as a small centaur walked into the circle of firelight. He had the lower body of a Clydesdale horse, but the upper half of a human. If centaurs aged anything like humans did, Neville guessed the boy could be no more then seven years old. He had dark brown hair, but his intense light blue eyes were very familiar. Harry must have thought so too, because in the next second he asked, "Are you related to Firenze?"

The little centaur jumped at the name. He looked nervously about. 

"He is banished and has no family in the herd," the centaur said in a very automatic way.

The teenagers looked at each other confused. Hagrid shook his head sadly. The centaur looked about the group: at the injured giant, his half human half brother, the three wizards and the witch. He stepped closer, his eyes darting.

"Is Firenze well?" he whispered. 

"He was fine in class today," said Neville. He was the only one in the group who had passed his divinations O.W.L. Professor Trelawney taught the subject to third through fifth years while Firenze confused all the upper classes with it. The centaur was half way between horror and delight. He looked around again before speaking.

            "Could you tell him Ares sends him greetings?" he whispered.

            "Alright." Neville said carefully. "Anything else?"

            There was a sudden sharp snapping noise in the forest. They all whirled to look. A deer wandered past, its eyes shining in the reflected light. When they turned back the little centaur was gone.

It took Hagrid another half hour to finish bandaging Grawp. When he was done he stood back wiping his hands. They knew he was reluctant to go but it was nearly midnight.   

            "Should we build up the fire before we leave?" asked Harry.

            "I think that'll just bring unwanted attention," said Ron.

            "He might get cold," Harry said.

            "I don't think cold bothers him," Hermione said. Neville glanced over at Hagrid, who seemed more worried then before. Hermione followed his gaze to the huge man. "But if you're that concerned…"

            She took off her school cloak and set it on the forest floor. With a wave of her wand and a few quick words the cloak grew to the size of a circus tent. Only when they were throwing it over Grawp's massive form did they realize he was awake. 

Hermione was tucking an end of the cloak under his shoulder when his dull sludge colored eyes sprang opened. She shrieked as a huge hand darted toward her. Ron scrambled and stumbled through the gravel, he fell and bloodied his hands and knees, but he still reached Hermione before Neville did. Ron and Harry drew their wands but Hermione's screams cut off. Instead of grabbing her, Grawp very carefully patted her on the top of her head with his table sized hand.

            "THANK HERMY" he said in a low rumbling voice.

            "You're welcome Grawp." She said shakily. Tears ran down her face as she attempted a friendly smile. The hand disappeared a moment later and she sprinted to her friends, attaching herself to Ron's side like a limpet. The giant's eyes roved over the assembly.  

            "THANK HAGGER, THANK…" the giant waved vaguely at the three teenage boys. His eyes closed. 

"SLEEP," he said, and a few seconds later the giant was snoring.

"I tol' you he could learn manners!" Hagrid said proudly.

As they marched back along the path towards school Neville regained the happy feeling of belonging that had momentarily fled. In front of him was Hagrid leading them along, then Hermione, now wearing Ron's cloak, and walking at his side. Harry was in the back this time, making sure no one fell behind. The trees began to thin out and every once in a while Neville could see stars shining down on them. He let a faint smile creep over his face.

A massive shadow fell over them and they halted, pointing their weapons.  The shadow landed on the path in front of the group, cutting off the way to school. It was like a huge tattered sheet waving about in a strong wind, with the faintest suggestion of limbs. Hermione lit her wand, but the glowing light revealed nothing more of the shadowed thing. It seemed to be made of darkness.

"Hagrid, what is that?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Don't move, any o' you," Hagrid muttered to them. He turned toward the shadow. "Who are you looking for?" Hagrid asked it loudly.

The thing twisted and turned, blocking out different parts of the sky and forest before them. It did not answer.

"Who sent you?" Hagrid asked.

Again the thing did not respond. Ten more minutes passed. Hagrid waved for them to follow and they stepped off the path, circling widely through the trees and undergrowth. The shadow did not pursue them. They did not speak until they passed the last tree of the forest. Harry started towards Hagrid's hut but the large man directed him toward the castle instead. Fang the boarhound came with them as well.

"What was that?" asked Harry, as they passed through the gates of the school.

"It might a' been a wraith, but if it were, it was an odd one." Hagrid said slowly. "A wraith is a kind a'…er… I can't explain it to well.  They're angry things that got but one purpose, ter kill what they was directed at. There's loads o' dark magic in those things, and not a ward yet made can keep um out, but they don' just flit about like that. Usually the only people that see um' are the ones they're about to kill. I've gotta tell Dumbledore about tha'," he said starting up the stairs to the headmasters office. He paused to look back at them.

"Thank yeh' fer all yuir help ter night. I don' know what I woulda' done without yeh," said Hagrid, looking teary again.

"Good night Hagrid," said Harry. They all mumbled good night to Hagrid as well, and took the stairs up to Gryffindor tower.

Neville did not go to the Gryffindor common room after classes the next day. Swamped with homework he climbed the stairs to the library and found a very secluded corner to hide in. It was not that he did not want to be invited on another adventure, but he could now understand why Harry and Ron never seemed to have their assignments finished. 

Neville finished up the last sentence of his transfigurations essay and set it aside to dry. There was a prickling feeling on the back of his neck. Very casually he took his wand from his pocket and held it across his lap. The prickling feeling continued and he was certain someone was behind him. He whiled in his chair. Only empty rows of bookshelves stood there. He turned back to his papers.

" 'ello," said a loud female voice.

Neville nearly fell out of his seat.  The tall girl from the boarded up train compartment stood in front of his desk. Her curly black hair was falling over her face, and she watched him without blinking.  He remembered her being sorted into Slytherin, but could not remember her name. 

"Hey." Neville said back cautiously.

"I'm Verdad," she said holding out her hand. He shook it.

"I'm Neville Longbottom."

"You're in 6th year right?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Would you mind if I took a peek at that paper you've just finished up?" she asked pointing at his essay.

He was half afraid she would tear it up as part of some Slytherin prank, but he nodded. She carefully picked it up and looked it over. Her lips moved slightly at times, as if sounding out some of the longer words.

"How come you've written this part three times?" she asked pointing out several of the paragraphs. His eyes followed her fingers.

"You're supposed to. It's an essay, so you've got an introduction, the body paragraphs that explain your thesis, and then you wrap it all up with the conclusion."

"But couldn't you just write 'You don't transfigure magically unstable objects because they blow up'?" she asked. 

"Well that doesn't really explain it. You have to be thorough, that's why they ask for an essay." Neville said.

"Hmmmm," she made a thoughtful noise. "Would you mind having a look at a paper I did. It's got a bunch a' corrections on it but I've got no #$@%ing idea what they mean."

Neville's mouth dropped open a bit at the casual profanity, but he nodded. She took a folded up piece of parchment from her robes and handed it to him. The entire lower half of the page was covered in red ink. He recognized Professor McGonagall's handwriting instantly. Verdad had written five sentences in very large handwriting, explaining basic object-to-object transformations.         

            _To transfigure one object into another, that is not alive, you need a wand. You point the wand at the object and say verto. While you point the wand at the object you have to think of what you want it to turn into, because you can't not know what you want it to turn into or it gets messed up. Then when the object is changed you show it to the teacher and she gives you a grade. Then you have to write an essay on it. The End._

Professor McGonagall had written several long paragraphs about taking assignments seriously and not giving into peer pressure. There was a long railing section about not becoming the class clown at the beginning of the year. It ended with a note to see her after class.

Neville looked up at Verdad, who was still watching him very carefully. He was about to ask her if the paper was a joke, but her expression was so serious he changed his mind.

"You've never written an essay before?" he asked.

"No." she said aggressively.

"Did you transfer from Durmstrang?" he asked.

"No. Are you going to tell me what's wrong with my essay or not?"

"Well it isn't really an essay…" 

"Why not?"

"An essay starts out with a thesis statement, that's your main idea, and then you build around it…"

Neville was still explaining basic English to the Slytherin girl when something in the great hall exploded.  

            "Has anyone else noticed a definite down turn in the quality of food this year?" asked Dean Thomas, as he picked at the meatloaf on the serving dish. It somehow managed to be watery.

            "Actually I did." Ron said, "Hermione did you trick all of the house elves into freeing themselves, or send them on strike or something?"

            Hermione looked at him with great contempt. "I haven't tricked anyone into doing anything." she said. "Maybe they've just realized what a bad lot they've got and decided to protest."

            She ladled some unusually purple stew onto her plate, and began to eat. Harry looked up and down the table at the singed rolls and wilted salad. _Maybe the Ministry's cut the schools budget to get back at Dumbledore. Harry thought. His eyes drifted to the Slytherin table. He noticed the food over there was in much better condition.  He looked at the head table. Most of the teachers were absent, as was the headmaster. Harry tried a little of the stew. It had a funny almost sweet taste, as if some one had poured zero calorie sugar substitute into it. He was just finishing some of the overly tart custard when he noticed Draco Malfoy watching him.    _

            "Malfoy's looking…" Harry started to say. 

            Hermione dropped forward into her dish of stew. Ron and Harry jumped forward at once, calling her name. They pulled her up right. The purplish glop ran down her face and robes, and her eyes were rolled back in her head. 

            "Get Madam Pom…" Ron dropped to the floor halfway through his sentence.

            Some first year Gryffindors ran from the hall. Harry felt at Ron's neck. He couldn't find a pulse. The fourth years crowded around them gawking.

            "Don't just stand there! Get help!" Harry bellowed. They scattered. Madam Hooch and Hagrid came running over.

            "They aren't breathing!" Harry shouted desperately.

            Dean and Harry set Hermione on the floor.

            "Maybe we should do CPR." Dean suggested.

            "Do you know how?" Harry asked.

            "Seen it done on television…" Dean toppled over backwards at Hagrid's feet.

             Hagrid grabbed up the fallen students and was headed for the door when a Hufflepuff girl fell backwards across his path. All around the hall students collapsed. Hagrid set down the three he was carrying.

            "They been poisoned. Somebody find Professor Snape!" Hagrid bellowed.

            Harry whirled toward the Slytherin table. Not one of them had collapsed. Malfoy was smirking at him.

            "Is something wrong with the mud-bloods?" Malfoy called.

            "YOU DID THIS!" Harry shouted, storming across the hall. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" He demanded at the top of his lungs.

            "I haven't done anything." Malfoy said smirking. 

            "I KNOW YOU'VE POISINED THEM! WHAT WAS IT?" Harry bellowed. He was shaking from head to foot and red was clouding the edge of his vision.

            "I don't know what you're talking about Potter. Maybe it was just their time to go." Malfoy said with the same superior smirk.

            "YOU… YOU…" Harry's scar blasted open, he couldn't see the room, it was a blur of red light. He refused to let himself fall. He staggered about trying to push the pain aside. "You…kill…you…son of  a…" His throat tightened and he felt strangled by his own rage. "Murderer…" he was on his knees and the pain and the anger continued to build. Someone was picking him up but he could not tell who. Though it all he heard Malfoy and the other Slytherins laugh. He never hated anyone so much…

            "AAARRRGGGG!" 

Harry screamed in agony and convulsed so hard the person carrying him dropped him on the floor. 

            It was happening again.  That hatful invisible burning thing smothered him. It twisted around him and through his skin. He tried to call for help but his mouth would not move. He was frozen in agony. He did not know how long.

            "What's wrong Harry?" asked a familiar voice from very near by.

            He tried to scream for help but other words came out instead.  He felt himself sit upright, every muscle quivering in convulsive agony. 

"I'm fine sir, my scar hurt for a minute there," his voice answered. Acid was melting his skull. He knew it.  

 His mouth was twisted in to sheepish grin. 

"My friends need help sir." His mouth said. 

He felt his arm pointing, but he could not see where through the blinding veil of red across his eyes. He could hear the Headmaster walking away from him. He felt his own hand move inside his robes and draw out his wand, pointing it towards the sound of the retreating foot steps.

_Some one help me!_ He thought desperately. He called out a warning but nothing happened. _Sirius are you there? _He begged_. He's going to kill him! Please help_. The barking came again, but much fainter then last time. The strangling coils loosened, but he could not move his arm. He tried again to yell but all that came out was a rasping inhuman hiss. 

"Avada Kedavra!" the words came from his mouth a second later.

 Even through the red haze he could see the green light coming from his wand. Something struck him in the chest and he was thrown across the hall. He struck a bench and it toppled on him, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his scar. His body stood up again without his consent.

"Let him go Tom." Dumbledore's voice echoed in his ears.

"He's not here old man! You think you can do this to me and get away with it? I'm not taking orders from you ever again!" his voice announced.

"Tom I know you're in there. You don't know Harry half as well as you think." Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry felt his arm move again. His wand darted to the side and he heard other students screaming. _No! Harry thought desperately. __Stop! The barking rang louder in his ears. _Sirius please help me!_ There was a sudden intense pain in his arm, as if something very large was biting his wrist. His wand was pointed at the floor. He tried to scream again but only the hissing escaped his lips._

"Stupefy!" Dumbledore shouted, but the stunning curse bounced off Harry's chest without effect.

"It won't work old man!" his voice taunted.

"Let him go Tom." Dumbledore repeated.

"Make me!" his voice said, laughing.

"GINNY NO!" Harry heard Hagrid bellow. 

Harry was tackled and pinned to the floor. Small hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to pull his wand away from him. Harry's free hand shot up and he felt it tangle in Ginny's hair. She shrieked as he pulled her downward. Harry felt his arm move, pressing the tip of his wand into her neck. She tried to push it away, but Voldemort was stronger then both of them.

"Avada…

All of his will and strength, everything he had, Harry put into moving his right arm. The barking had gone, the shouting had gone, even the pain had gone. It was his arm against the strangling thing inside him. As the wand moved, Harry felt the Voldemort's surprised expression put on his face. As the word Kedavra left his mouth the wand was pointed entirely at Harry's own forehead.  


	11. Scrambled

Disclaimer: I have no money, I make not money. A law suit would waste precious paper. Recycle.

Warning: Some violence, cussing, cursing, and you know…

Author's note: Thank you Qool! I've got reviews coming out of my ears! My email account couldn't accept anymore.  You all know Qool is the coolest person on earth, right? And thank you all for reviewing. 

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 10**

**Scrambled**

            The old man sat by the side of the bed. In the distance he could hear muffled shouts, and the occasional laughter of children, wandering through the halls. He would have to go down to the kitchens in half an hour, and inspect all food before lunch was served, but until then he would wait where he was. Despite over a century spent practicing magic, he could not think of a way to help the boy lying in the bed.

            The boy's messy black hair covered much of his pale angular face, and his thin arms were fold neatly across his chest, on top of the blankets. The old man reached forward and pushed the hair back from the boy's forehead, revealing the lightening bolt scar. It was deeper then it had been. 

The boy's friends had brought him presents. Someone had tucked a stuffed toy dragon next to him, and it made him look ridiculously childish.    

"I'm sorry Harry," said the old man as he resettled in his chair.

The doors to the hospital wing opened and the old man looked up. There was a fluttering noise, and the edge of the boy's pillow sank downward suddenly. The old man could see the outline of two bird's feet in the cloth.

"How are you Gretchen?" the old man asked the invisible bird.

"I'm as well as I ever am Albus. You don't look so well though," said an echoing voice from the walls.

"I only wish I knew when he would awake. Tom could kill him like this and fulfill the prophesy."

"Shouldn't be too long like this," said the voice. "You have to want death very badly to work a killing curse on yourself. The boy's friends will draw him back." 

 "But will they be in time? Things are moving much faster now. I fear I will be to slow."

"We both know time is not the major issue Albus."

"I pray you're right."

****

"The new wards should be enough to protect him…"

            "…can hear me, so I'll just tell you what we did in transfigurations…"

            "…nothing we can do Remus…"

            "…not fair…"

            "No pictures Collin!"

            "…I brought his broom, maybe he'll…"

            "…defense class, of course Ron hadn't done his essay…"

            The voices floated in the darkness with him. Harry sat next to the dog and listened. There was no light, but he could feel the dog's fir, and hear it breathe. He did not know how long he had been there. He felt so tired. 

            "Is this it?" he asked the dog who may or may not have been Sirius Black.

            As usual there was no answer. Harry leaned his head against the dog's side.

*****

Hermione shoved her Arithmancy text into her bag and hurried out of the class room. She sprinted down the staircase. Ron had to attend a meeting with Professor McGonagall about the Gryffindor Quidditch team, so Hermione would be sitting watch alone for most of the afternoon. She only brought the notes from the defense class to read to Harry that day. Ron had yelled at her the previous week when she began to explain, to the unconscious Harry, the potions essay that was due in the next class. Ron was only letting off steam, but a twenty minute babbling lecture on how homework from Snape would only drive Harry deeper into a coma seemed excessive to her.

She pushed open the door of the hospital wing and waved to Madam Pomfrey as she crossed to the curtain that surrounded Harry's bed. Her heart filled with hope as she sat in the chair next to him, shook his arm, and said loudly,   "Good afternoon Harry."

He made no response. With a sigh she pulled out the notes and began to read. She was half way through "the quickest ways to detect invisible wards" when a faint cough interrupted her. She stood and peeked around the curtain.  Former Professor Lupin was standing there, with an armful of red and yellow balloons, looking more worn and gray then ever before. 

"Why don't you come sit with us Professor?" Hermione invited. "I was just, well I was reading the class notes to Harry. I've heard that you can hear sometimes when you're in a coma, and if he's like this much longer he'll be awfully behind. N.E.W.T.s are coming up you know." Her voice cracked and broke, but she did not let herself cry.

Lupin followed her behind the curtain and conjured up a chair for himself. He tied the balloons to Harry's bed post and then settled down.

"I've only got a little while to visit before the meeting starts," he explained. That it was with the Order of the Phoenix was implicit.

 "Oh," said Hermione. "How are things going, with You-Know-What and You-Know-Who?" 

"We're chasing our tail half the time to be honest. We know he's recruiting heavily, but the rest of his plans are unfathomable. Random attacks on muggles, in bizarre places, mindless destruction. Death Eaters cut off all gas, water, and electric services in Manchester, and when utilities came back on, there were more random attacks. We still don't know why. They are hardly mentioned in _The Daily Prophet_ though."  

Hermione nodded, filing the information away.

"Have you read about the new Ministry restrictions on part and near humans?" she asked.

Lupin's fists clenched for a moment, but his voice was completely calm when he answered. "I have. They're putting a noose around their own necks with those. I got a strong urge to join the militants while reading over them. No one in their right mind would comply. Submitting yourself to a magical tracking charm so they know where you are at all times? It's madness. As far as I know, only myself and three others have gone in, and the Headmaster has already transferred my tracking tag to a chair in the living room of my cottage in Oxford. I don't know what the others are doing. This will wreak havoc on the alliance with the goblins. They threatened to lock down Gringotts and not allow any goblin or galleon to leave, so the ministry could know right where they were. They're exempt for now but if that idiot Fudge keeps this up…" He trailed off looking at Hermione. "Sorry I really shouldn't be bothering you with all this."

"No. You really should not," said a sneering voice from the other side of the curtain.

"Hello Severus," said Lupin in a friendly voice.

"If you're done leaking information, the Headmaster wishes to speak to you before the meeting. Go to his office, now."

Lupin got up slowly from his chair. "It was pleasant conversing with you Hermione, you must write me about how S.P.E.W. is progressing." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Bye Harry, I'll be back again in a little while alright?"     

"I doubt Potter is going to wander off while you're gone," Snape said with a snort.

Hermione could hear Lupin grinding his teeth. He walked around the curtain and Hermione poked her head out to watch them go. Not so gently or accidentally, Lupin bumped the potion professor's shoulder as he walked past. Hermione smiled slightly as Snape slammed the door behind them. She found her place in the defense notes, and continued to read.  

*****

            He sat up with a gasp, his scar prickling. Harry's eyes darted about, taking in Hogwart's hospital wing. There was a faint squeaking noise, and he shifted around, noticing the stuffed dragon under his elbow. He was surrounded by a white curtain, and people were talking on the other side of it. He hopped out of bed. His legs gave way. He grabbed onto the curtain, but he was too heavy and it tore loose. He fell anyway.

            Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape starred down at him as he flailed on the cold floor. Madam Pomfrey recovered from her shock first. She rushed over and helped him back into bed.

            "Don't over exert yourself Potter. You've been in bed for two weeks."

            He goggled at her. "No, that can't be right."

            Snape was sneering at him. "I'll inform the Headmaster," he said. In a whirl of black robes he was gone.

            "What happened?" he asked the medi-witch.

            "You some how managed to hit yourself in the head with the killing curse. Fortunately you don't know how to cast it properly."

            "What happened to Ron and Hermione? They weren't breathing! Malfoy murdered them!" Harry shouted trying to get out of bed again.

            "They're fine Potter. The only one in danger of dying was you. Some fool prankster put draught of living death in the stew at dinner. Professor Snape was able to revive everyone within an hour."

            "Ginny! Is Ginny alright I think he…I…did something…"

            "Ms. Weasley is fine as well. She did more damage to you actually. Get some rest Potter, the Headmaster will be here shortly.

            He lay there waiting. It was night outside, and he could see a sliver of moon through the windows. He turned when the door creaked open, but instead of Headmaster Dumbledore arriving with an explanation, the skeletal Defense teacher floated into the room. She hovered several feet off the floor, wrapped in the same heavy blankets he'd first seen her in. He'd only attended one of her classes. Madam Pomfrey looked up at her in surprise.

            "Albus sent me to get him." The voice came from the walls around them.

            "He's not in any shape to go wandering about…" the nurse began.

            "He won't have to," said the voice. 

            The knobby fingers twitched and Harry found himself floating gently in the air. They glided out of the hospital wing. Harry was so focused on the strange sensation of hovering that he almost did not notice when they bypassed the staircase leading to the head master's office. 

            "Where are we going?" Harry asked, suddenly frightened as he realized he had neither his wand nor his glasses, and was completely at the mercy of a stranger.

            "My classroom, to see if I can't solve a few of your problems." The voice echoed up and down the halls as they moved.

            "How are you going to do that?" Harry asked.

            "I'm just going to open your skull and poke around a bit."

            "You are joking right?" he asked as they floated through the rune covered arch into the defense classroom.

            The doors slammed shut behind them. He expected to be set down at one of the tables, but instead she floated him all the way to the Antler rocking chair in the front of the class. The silver bells jingled and the chair rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm as he settled in it. She floated above him, her stone eyes glaring down. He tried to stare back.

            She flew at him suddenly, and stopped only a few inches away. He let out a startled yelp as her twig like hands grabbed the sides of his face. She tilted his head around, inspecting his eyes and his scar from many slightly different angles.

            "You tried to learn Occlumency?" The voice asked.

            "Yes," Harry answered. The skeletal thumbs held his eyes open and he could not blink.

            "Didn't go too well hmmm?" The almost friendly tone surprised him.

            "No it didn't." Harry said, remembering Professor Snape's attempts to teach him. He had tried to learn it so he could keep Voldemort out of his mind. _Another one of my brilliant successes, he thought miserably._

            "I'll give you three guesses why." The voice said in a conversational tone.

            Harry jumped as a finger poked into his ear.

            "Professor Snape said I was overly emotional and had no focus." Harry said as the odd hands picked through the hair on his scalp. 

            "Maybe in part, but that's not the big one."

            "Why then?" Harry was very eager to hear why Professor Snape was wrong.

            "Did you know someone's made a very large hole in your mind?"

            Her withered face was so close to his he could hear her eyelids scrap across the stones in her eye-sockets.

            "They what?" he asked.

            "Your mind has a very large hole in it. You've been hit with a killing curse. Was that your story?" the voice asked.

            "I'm Harry Potter." he said a bit confused. He had yet to run into any magical person who was not annoyingly familiar with his claim to fame.    

            "I'm Gretchen Graypond, but I didn't ask your name." The voice seemed to have a hint of laughter in it now.

            "Yes, Voldemort hit me in the head with a killing curse when I was a little over a year old. My mum had done something before he killed her though, so it bounced off me and knocked Voldemort out of his body for thirteen years."

His scar twinged whenever he said Voldemort. She grabbed his chin and turned his head to the side, inspecting his profile.

            "It didn't bounce off entirely. I'm going to try something." 

            Before Harry could object, there was a strange sensation in his mind. It was not unlike having someone sit down next to you on a couch. It felt as if his thoughts were sinking toward a new heavy spot, and he mentally resettled himself.

            _Roomy. The thought was in his head, but he was fairly certain he hadn't thunk it. _Thunk isn't a word_. That thought didn't fit quite right either.  _Is that you professor?_ He thought. _Yes it is. It's not hard to get in here at all. _The professor's thoughts bumped into his own. He started feeling confused. _Is it hard to get out? This is a bit awkward._ Harry tried to put some mental emphasis on his sentence.   _

            "No, that's as easy as getting in." the voice was echoing outside his head now.

            "So I've just got a big hole in my head and I've got to deal with it?" Harry asked morosely. The professor was still holding the sides of his face.

            "I didn't say that. It's like trying to keep goats out of a house with three walls." The voice explained.

            "Hu?"

            "City people." The voice said with something like a sigh. "You've got yourself a house, but you're one wall short. How do you keep things from wandering in and out?"

            "Goat repellent?"

            The leathery skin on the professor's forehead winkled a bit. Apparently that was not the right answer.  

            "You could build another wall." Harry said hopefully.

            "You could indeed, of course it'll be a bit patchwork, and it won't look too pretty." 

The Professor released him and floated herself over to the cauldrons in the back of the classroom. She waved a withered hand and items leapt from the shelf, diving into a boiling pot. With another wave one of the carved bowls jumped off the wall behind Harry, and whizzed passed his ear. He waited in the chair while she worked.

 _Whatever she's cooking smells fairly awful. I hope I don't have to drink much of it._ He thought. The rocking motion of the chair was starting to make him sleepy. He closed his eyes for what he thought was a moment, but when he opened them again the Professor was floating in front of him and sunlight was pouring in the windows. He had dreamed of nothing. _Maybe I could just sleep here every night_, he thought, but then he heard the shrunken heads whispering and changed his mind. 

 The Professor held the carved wooden bowl. It was filled with a red mush that smelled as if she had found something on the bottom of a cafeteria waste basket, mixed it with something she found in a pigsty, then threw in some onions for good measure.

            "I don't have to eat all of that do I?" he asked.

            "Good lord, no. Eating this would make you violently ill." The corners of her lipless mouth pulled back, revealing even more teeth then usual.  "You get to wear it."

            He started to ask what she meant, but she scooped up a handful of the mush and slapped it onto his forehead. His eyes widened hugely and the freezing stuff dribbled down the sides of his nose. 

            "When do I get to wash it off?" The smell was much worse up close.

            "When this Voldemort character is done threatening you I suppose. You'll have to come back for more after you bathe. Isn't that better?"   

            Harry's mouth dropped open. _This is wonderful!_ _They starred at my scar, but now I get to have a pile of sinking crap on top of it all the time. _He did not know if an overload of sarcastic thoughts could cause one's brain to explode, but he was certain he was about to find out.

            "You look absolutely miserable kid. I think that means my work is done. You've got two weeks worth of homework to catch up on. Best get up to your room and change. Classes start in half an hour, and Albus wants a word with you."

            Dumbledore sat behind his desk. He had been there the entire night, waiting for the Defense teacher's prognosis. There was a knock at the door. He looked toward the painting of Jaqualin Aberforth, who had just appeared in her frame.

            "It's the Potter boy," she said softly. 

            "Please come in Harry," Dumbledore called in a cheerful voice.

            Harry pushed open the door and walked in. The boy's eyes darted to the table he had smashed the previous June, which was now repaired and back in its proper place. Harry was still in his hospital robes. He was shivering and Dumbledore silently cast a warming charm on the room. The boy's forehead was completely obscured by a lumpy red paste. It clumped up in his bangs and eyebrows. Dumbledore tried to ignore the smell.

            "You've got something on your face dear," whispered the portrait of an old witch to the boy. The boy looked at the floor.

            "Sit down," said the Headmaster, pointing to a very comfortable looking chair. Harry obeyed without argument.

            "It is very nice to have you back with us Harry," Dumbledore said.

            Harry nodded vaguely.  

            "Is something wrong?"

            Harry shook his head.

            "Did you want to talk to me about anything Harry?"

            He shook his head.

            "We have a few important matters to discuss," Dumbledore said, watching for a reaction. There was none. Harry looked at him, but did not make eye contact. "To prevent Voldemort from accessing your mind again, the professors and I have constructed several new wards around the castle, and in combination with the treatment Professor Graypond is developing, you should be completely safe within the castle walls. Unfortunately these protections do not extend to the village of Hogsmead. I am sorry to say you are no longer allowed to visit."

            The boy looked up at him then, and opened his mouth to object, but closed it again soundlessly, and nodded. Harry's eyes turned to the sword of Godric Gryffindor, hanging above the fire place.  Dumbledore continued.

 "The incident, two weeks passed, has frightened many students and their parents.  You must prepare yourself for some antagonism. I will escort you to your dormitory, and you are not to leave again unaccompanied. Someone must go with you at all times, even within Gryffindor tower. You are not to open any mail sent to you. One of the Professors or I must check it for hexes before it comes into your possession. You are not to leave the castle itself without a teacher escorting you. Hagrid will come to the castle and walk with you to Care of Magical Creatures, and Madam Hooch or Professor McGonagall will escort you to Quidditch practice."

Dumbledore watched Harry again, and found himself hoping the boy would react. He hoped strongly Harry would leap out of his chair, call him a crazy failure of an old man and then smash something, but Harry only nodded. There was a troubling dull look in his eyes.

"Do you have any questions Harry?"

The boy started to shake his head but stopped himself. "I have something I have to ask you about Hagrid sir."

Dumbledore watched him intently. _Maybe someone will finally explain to me why there is a giant wandering about the forest, he thought. "Go ahead Harry."_

"My second year, after the Chamber of Secrets, and all that, I proved it was Tom Riddle who killed Myrtle all those years ago, didn't I?"

The Headmaster was rather surprised by the non sequiter topic. He nodded.

"Well if it's all proved that Hagrid hadn't done it, why doesn't he get a new wand?"

Dumbledore felt more then a little floored. He had not even thought of the Gamekeeper-turned-Professor's magical predicament after the Chamber was discovered.  

"He's never asked for one, and I suppose I am guilty of allowing the matter to slip my mind. What were you planning Harry?"

"As I won't be doing much with my free time, I thought I'd start up the D.A. again. If Hagrid could come we could catch him up on defense magic."

"You have my permission, and gratitude Harry."

"Thank you, sir."

The boy's eyes still looked a bit dull, but he smiled faintly as he spoke. 

"You need not attend your morning classes if you do not feel up to it." Dumbledore told him.

The boy nodded and they stood up to leave.

"Are you certain you feel alright?" Dumbledore asked on last time.

"I'm fine sir." Harry said, and turned towards the door.

As they walked out, Dumbledore sighed. One did not have to be an expert in Legilimency to know Harry was lying. 

*****

               His knees ached. He huddled against the chimney, peeking carefully over the edge of the roof into the alley below. The windows in the building across from him were all dark, and the upper floors looked completely abandoned, but a thin line of light spilled out of under a recessed basement door, at the bottom of a narrow stair case. The light suddenly increased a hundred fold and Snape ducked down again.  He had cast a disillusionment charm over himself before entering the vicinity, but he kept low, as an extra precaution. Voices echoed upward on the cold, damp night air, and he required no aid in identifying the speakers or their words.

            "…squealed like a pig. I've never laughed so hard, thought I'd split something! Another great evening Lucius!" declared Aaron Blingkit, as he climbed the squeaking steps. 

            "My thanks," said a low cool voice. "I trust you will pass the message onward?"

            "Of course, I know a few more at the ministry who'd be interested, if you take my meaning."

            "I look forward to introductions." Malfoy said pleasantly, and turned to the next guest exiting his little show.

            Though he was entirely confident in his memory, Snape drew a book from his pocket and made a few notes as he listened to the exchange below. _Forty seven so far, Albus won't like that, Snape thought. For the last eighteen months he had been watching meetings like these. The Dark Lord's circle of twelve had multiplied in a very frightening manner since his resurrection, and after Potter had forced a confrontation in the Ministry of Magic's lobby, the number of attendants had quadrupled. But counting heads was one of the lesser parts of the night's activities._

            Being the only member of the Order of the Phoenix who, besides Albus Dumbledore, was a competent with Legilimency, it was Snape's task to retrieve information from known Death Eaters and their contacts. After the information was sifted from their dull little minds he would place a few memory charms and send them back to the flock to gather more of the Dark Lord's plans. This was the secret of his spying success. No matter how well one lied, if information you alone were given leaked out, you alone could be blamed, but if someone else's secrets were discovered by the Order…   

            Snape watched another group of potential Death Eaters walk up the staircase and out of the alley. They would have to travel several more blocks on foot to get out of under the anti-apparation wards, which had been cast to slow up an Auror raid. Most of them walked off in pairs. Snape ignored them. Two armed wizards were twenty times more dangerous then one alone. He knew he could incapacitate any number of the arrogant dolts wandering past, with ease, _But a Slytherin never takes unnecessary risks._ He waited for solitary prey. But none came.

            Malfoy waved out the last group. A buddy system was now apparently in place. Snape suppressed a curse as the last three walked out of the alley, leaving Malfoy alone, back lit by the door. Not a single one was an easy catch. Since he was not fool enough to try his skills against Malfoy, Snape would have to follow one of the recruits home. _As soon as Malfoy leaves_, he thought with annoyance, as the pale man stood, unmoving in the door way. The easiest way down was the fire escape hanging into the alley, but even disillusioned, Malfoy would notice him climbing. Malfoy remained still, starring upward. Suddenly he pointed his wand at the sky and fired off a blasting hex. Snape fell backwards in surprise and whirled to follow the trajectory of the red light. It struck a large black muggle balloon that was floating passively over head. The bursting sound echoed up and down the alley walls, as burning scraps drifted down around Malfoy. Snape could hear a faint tinkling noise on the cobbles below, as if the balloon had been filled with small bits of metal. 

Motion caught the corner of his eye and Snape looked up. Silent as a ghost, a gray figure was sprinting across the flat roof of Malfoy's building. Snape saw the figure for only a moment before he disappeared over the far side of the opposite roof.  Whoever they were, they were moving too fast for him to catch on foot. Snape looked down again. Malfoy was gone.

 He looked all over the alley but there was no sign of him. With another string of internal cursing, Snape edged toward the fire escape. It would be another sleepless night.  As his hand closed around the first rung he began to shudder. In the clear sky above him, the stars dimmed to almost nothing and the quarter moon faded. Street lights blinked out. His shuddering grew worse and he was inconsolably cold.  

            _Dementors_, he thought. Instinct made him look over his shoulder. Gliding up the roof behind him, came an army of black cloaked nightmares. Most were indistinct in the ever darkening night, but the four in the lead had already removed their hoods. Their pale blue-gray skin was very distinct around their gaping cavernous mouths. He could hear ragged breathing, but it took several seconds for him to realize the sound was his own.

            Forgoing the ladder, he jumped to the first landing of the fire escape. Stinging pain shot up through his ankles, but he refused to feel it. As he dove down, from landing to landing, he emptied his mind. The dementors dropped over the edge of the roof, sinking past him almost gracefully. Their icy hands reached out and caught at his clothing as they went by, but he pulled free and they continued on, landing without a sound on the cobbles below. They surrounded the bottom of the ladder. More of them glided down the fire escape above him. 

             Being surrounded by an army of demonic creatures, who would settle for nothing less than taking your soul, would have panicked an ordinary person, and if Snape could have felt one thing at that moment, smug superiority over those lesser individuals would have been it. But feeling anything at that particular moment would have been the height of stupidity. With slow deliberate motions he lowered himself from the last landing into their midst. 

            A Patronus was an unnecessary and showy way of escaping these creatures in Snape's opinion. All one had to do was feel nothing, and you were rendered invisible. Without looking left or right Snape walked among the towering cloaked figures, towards the mouth of the alley. One reached out a groping hand, and the slimy thing brushed across his cheek. For a moment he was over whelmed with disgust, and they closed in on him. Taking another shuddering breath he cleared his mind, and they moved off a bit.   He continued on towards the end of the alley, and they drifted with him. He knew he was showing no emotion, nothing for them to sense and track, but the creatures could hear after a fashion, and they followed the soft clack of his shoes on the stones. He turned out of the alley and started slowly up the street. 

It was sitting on the side walk before him, watching. His mind was suddenly loud with confusion, anger, and, over all else, fear. The huge black dog glared at him with its icy blue eyes. It slowly rose to its feet, amid the dementors. Its lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

            "You…" was all Snape managed to say, before icy hands wrapped around his throat, and all else became a foggy blur.

            "_No! Let me go…you have to get her…she'll fall…" _

Snape struggled to shut his annoying childhood voice from his mind. He threw his arms over his face, trying to focus. He felt the disillusionment charm fade to nothing.

            "_Father please…help her…"_

            He could not shut off the pitiful begging voice. A dementor caught one of his wrists and pulled his arm out of the way. In a last desperate attempt, Snape used his free hand to grab his wand. He had never produced a corporeal Partronus, but he was willing to settle for a silver mist. Before he had it even halfway raised another dementor closed in behind him. Its slimy hand closed over his and it squeezed, forcing his finger nails into his palms. He felt the skin break, and blood dripped onto the cobbles. He struggled to hold on despite the pain. 

            _"Father…it was me…I took the book…please help her…"_

The thing continued to crush his fingers, its vice like hand slowly adding more pressure. Snape refused to let go. They were all around him now. The one holding him by the throat could have taken his soul at any moment, but it just held him there writhing uselessly. _Shouldn't play with your food… his foggy mind thought. He felt the bone in his index finger snap and pain shot up his arm. Still he held on. Snape did not know that dementor got impatient, but the one trying to crush him into submission apparently thought it was taking too long. The crushing did not stop, but slowly the thing began to twist his arm around. He clenched his jaw as something in his wrist popped. He refused to scream, but his hand went numb and he heard his wand drop to the side walk. The dementor leaned forward. He felt drown, and his lungs burned, but he refused to open his mouth._

"_Hang on mother…I'll get some rope…"_

He heard his mother's terrified shriek and a loud crash.  The dementor's fetid breath passed across his eyelids. 

  _         "Tell the house elves to clean up this mess…"_

His father's voice echoed in his ears as something icy touched his lips. The echoing grew so loud it was overwhelming. He could no longer differentiate words, only a shaking, droning beat. His ears ached.  The sudden sharp pain in his knees let him know he had been dropped. His head was still a foggy mess and he could not see, but he was aware that icy hands were no longer touching him._ Is this what it feels like to exist without a soul? Not a very large difference_, he thought. He began to chuckle as he pressed his hands to his ears. The sound pounded all around him and his bones ached in resonance.

            He was blinded by the sudden light. His eyes regained a bit of function and he could see the silhouettes or the dementors, gliding about between him and the light, like moths around a lamp. They seemed disoriented and confused. A shadow stopped directly before him and he looked up. A cloth hood came down over his face. He shouted in incoherent protest and tried to pull the thing off, but hands grabbed his wrists and wrenched them behind his back. Despite the unforgivable attack on his person, Snape was relived that the hands were at least warm. He felt cold metal encircle his wrists and hissed in pain as the broken one was touched. He tired to kick at his captor, but his ankles were grabbed and chained together a moment later.    

            He flailed on the ground for a few seconds before an arm caught him around the waist and he was lifted onto a boney shoulder. His captor carried him, with wobbly, struggling strides, and dropped him roughly into a low padded chair. He was entirely disoriented until his knees struck a something hard to his left. He leaned his enter body that way, and his head bumped a flat cool surface. _Glass_. He felt a handle digging into his shoulder. He lifted his knees and they bumped a low hard platform. _A muggle car?_ A hand pushed him against the back of the seat and a belt was pulled across his waist and shoulders.      

            The seat rocked up and down for a moment as his captor settled into the car. With an almost inaudible bang, the painful sounds outside vanished. His ears rang, but he could hear a jingling noise of metal against metal, and a deep rumbling as the engine started. He tipped over as the car reversed and swung around in the street, and was thrown back again, as the car rapidly accelerated. His mind grew steadily clearer.

            "Who are you? I demand to be released," he said. 

He tried to sound controlled and threatening, but his words came out struggling and exhausted. After a few long seconds of silence, a woman's low voice responded.

"Why should I let you go sweetie? I just found you," she said. Snape could detect traces of laughter.

"If you value your life…"

She cut him off half way through the sentence. "Death threats? You can do better then that love. Can't you think of any good reason I should let you go? I can't let just anybody go wandering about in my city, you know."

"Who are you working for?" he demanded.

Instead an answer he heard a bag being unzipped. Metal and glass clinked together. She grabbed a handful of the robes in his lap and he heard scissors cutting fabric. Cold air touched the top of his thigh.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.

"I wouldn't want to miss the artery now, would I?"

The car skidded to a stop and a hand pressed his leg hard into the seat. He tried to kick her away but he had no leverage.  There was a sudden sharp pain in the inside of his thigh, and he felt pressure as the foreign liquid forced its way into his blood. He struggled, forgetting dignity, but he could not get away. His head swam again.

"Bitch…" he mumbled, before sagging forward against the seat belt.

She snorted and the car sped on.    

            Sound returned first.

            "Turn his arm a bit. I want a clearer shot of the tattoo for our records." The voice was high, but male.

            Snape felt gloved hands encircle his left fore arm, and turn it. A light flashed, so brightly he could see it through his eyelids. He feigned unconsciousness. He could hear a soft rhythmic beep, and a steady hiss. His ankles and wrists were chained down to a hard table and there were heavy straps across his chest and hips. He could feel a stinging pain in the crook of his right arm, and in the back of his hand. Something was pinching his fingertip. His head ached. His robes and shirt had been removed and he was cold.   

            "Sleeping beauty awakes." It was the woman's voice again.

            An exasperated third voice spoke. "Subject is regaining consciousness," he said in a very official manner.

            Snape opened his eyes. The room was small, square, and bright. A huge light shined right in his eyes, so the faces of those around him were hidden in the glare. A plastic tube was running into his right arm and another into the back of his hand. His chest was covered in white plastic circles, with wires coming out of them. There were monitors all around him. For a confused moment, he thought he was in a muggle hospital.

            "Please state your name, age, and association," said the official voice.

            It took Snape a moment to realize he was being addressed.

            "Who…are…you?" Snape said slowly. He felt as if his mouth were filled with cotton.

              "Please state your name, age, and association," said the official again.

            "No." Snape said. He tried to shake his head and realized there were wires attached there as well.

            "Subject refuses to cooperate. We are moving to step two, first injection: three milliliters, time 2:15 am Greenwich mean," said the official.

            Snape expected another stab in the leg, but one of the shadowed figures moved to the tube going into his arm, and injected it with a syringe of bluish liquid. He watched it flowing slowly until it disappeared under his skin.

            "Feeling that yet?" asked the woman. 

She leaned close and peeled back his right eyelid, shining a small flash light in. That close, he could see her clearly despite the glare. She was wearing a paper face mask and cap, but he could see a thick scar snaking out of under the mask, down the left side of her neck. The skin around her hazel eyes was red and blistered. He would not forget.

"I'm going to kill you," he said in low voice.

"Sure you are sweetie," she paused for a moment. "There he goes."

The flash light was removed. He turned his head, trying to see the others in the room, but as he moved his chest tightened. He gasped for air. The room tilted and twisted and he felt as if he had been hung upside down by his ankles, but the shadowy figures remained standing around him, unaffected. Waves of dizziness passed through him and he tried not to vomit.

 "Please state your name, age, and association for the record," said the official again.

******

"It's been eight hours." complained the man with the high voice. "Let's just end this. He's not going to crack."

"Come on Roger, don't be a quitter. Let's give him another five milliliters," said the woman.

 "You are not to address each other by name while we are recording." said the official voice. "I agree though, this is going no where. Unhook him. You'll handle disposal," he said to the woman.

"Be a sport, five more milliliters," she said.

"Any more at this point would probably cause brain damage, if not out right death," said the official.

"So you want me to drag him off and shoot him in the back of the head, but you don't want to cause brain damage?" 

"That's not the point and don't say things like that while we're recording. Just dispose of him. Now," said the official, who then threw down his gloves and face mask and stormed out of the room.

The woman and Roger walked over to the raving, muttering man. He was sweating profusely and his previously sharp black eyes were glassy. He had not cracked though. He had not answered a single question. All they had to add to their store of information, after eight hours of drug assisted mind bending, was that this man hated dogs, someone called Potter, and hissing sounds. More accurately, they had that, an empty note book, and a vile of clear liquid to test in the lab, but the evening still seemed wasted. 

"Do you really shoot them in the back of the head?" asked Roger, as he undid the straps across the man's chest.  

"Yes, unless they ask for it between the eyes, or sometimes in the heart, though most don't have a preference," she said and she carefully pulled out the I.V.

"You wait for them to wake up? Why?"

"To see if they can think of a good reason why I should let them live."

"That's sick. Lim, that is absolutely sick," he paused, an electrode hanging from his hand. "You wouldn't actually let one of them go would you? Grandfather would have your head."

"Grandfather can shove it." 

After they had properly tied the subject and set him in the plastic lined trunk of the car, the woman called Lim went back into the interrogation room. She opened a cabinet and took out a glass bottle of blue liquid and a syringe. After tucking the items into the pocket of her gray trench coat, she returned to the car, climbing into the driver's seat. She drove off into heavy London traffic, humming softly.  


	12. the near side of waking

Disclaimer: I have no money, and since JKR owns all the characters, she has my permission to steal my plot. (That's J.K. Rowling by the way. Josh Kyle Robinson will get a swift kick in the rear if he tries!)

Warning: violence, adult themes, vomiting, screaming and I think I've earned my PG13 by now, don't you.

Author's Note: Thank you reviewers! People who review are the best people on earth. Sorry about the typos and spelling mistakes, I'm making my poor pirate sister correct them, so it should be fixed soon. Sorry also that it has taken me so long to up date. I have been battling the mighty powers of SBC to get my phone line hooked up again. Thank yee again, kind reviewers. Props to my homie Hobbitfoot!

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 11**

**The Near Side of Waking**

"Is that really necessary?" asked professor McGonagall, as she freed her robes from a thorny hedge. 

"It is if you want these wards to work," answered Professor Vector as he pushed another little flag into the ground. "Measurements have to be precise you know, or else there's no harmony. I don't ask you how much fir is necessary on a cat do I?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I was not trying to be offensive; I just don't see the purpose…"

"Building wards is not like transfiguring a single object, it involves sending energy through space in a very precise pattern and I must have the Arithmancy done exactly right or the whole thing will be useless. It will collapse under the first curse or strong breeze that comes its way. But Albus does not want just any ward, no! He wants a spell nullification ward! A professional in my field would be earning at least a thousand galleons per acre for this kind of work, not that I'm complaining, I know he-who-must-not-be-named is a threat to the students, but still I have home work to correct and lessons to plan not to mention my own research, I would not be stomping through the edge of the forbidden forest unless these measurements were really necessary," finished the short balding man with a dramatic squaring of shoulders.

 Professor McGonagall looked at the Arithmancy teacher for a long moment before speaking. "I simply wanted to know if the Ravenclaw crests embossed on each of the flags was necessary."

 Vector adjusted his robes self consciously. "The ravens on the flags? No, not really I suppose, I had volunteers in my house make them you see…"

He trailed off and the two professors continued on in silence. McGonagall kept a careful eye on the forest. A centaur had fired an arrow at them earlier in the day, and she did not want to have to limp up to the hospital wing to have one of those things pried out of her back side. As they left the forest for the open hills between the school and Hogsmead Professor Vector spoke again.

"I know the rules for having a family member living on school grounds only apply to spouses and their immediate children, but I was wondering…"

"What?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I was wondering if my sister and my niece and nephews could share my quarters at the school. I would not ask for the rules to be bent, its just her husband has gone missing and she's very upset, and with all these new wards to put up and security screenings every time I leave the school grounds… I can't visit her as often as she'd like and, well she was never brilliant at defense. I don't think she's safe out there on her own." 

"I'll speak to the Headmaster."

"Thank you." 

"Don't mention it."

********

He woke up so suddenly he startled himself. Ron sat up in his bed, surrounded by the curtains. He held his breath, trying to slow his racing heart enough to hear the breathing of the four other occupants of the room. Neville was snoring too loudly. Ron could not hear anyone else. He quietly climbed out of bed. He listened at Harry's bed first, and then tiptoed passed Seamus and Dean, they all sounded normal. He went to the window and looked out at the faintly illuminated grounds. For a moment he thought he saw a dark shape racing across the lawn, but a cloud passed over the moon, and the shape was gone. 

Ron paced, ignoring the stinging cold of the stone floor. Something was very out of place; he could feel it. It was like that time Ginny nearly drowned in the pond behind the Burrow.  Ron had only been six at the time, but he had noticed his annoying little sister was not tagging along after him. The absence of her incessant chatter had spurred him into a frantic search. He remembered screaming his head off when he saw that clump of something, floating out in the center of the murky water, too red to be marsh weeds.

He struggled with the urge to run up to the girl's dorm and check on her. It would set off the security alarms if he did. _Maybe it's Hermione, something she said earlier today, that I'm just thinking of now?_ Then it hit him. Ron had not been awakened once that night by Harry yelling and mumbling in his sleep. _That never happens._ Ron went sprinting to Harry's bedside, certain he'd find the bed empty or occupied by some hideous imposter. He tore aside the curtain.

"AHHHHHH!" 

The shouting had everyone awake in an instant. The lights came on. Ron fell backwards onto the floor and the occupant of the bed, still shouting, darted for the wand on the dresser. The other three boys were out of bed as well, wands drawn.

"What's going on?" shouted Seamus Finnegan. 

Harry was looking around wildly. The red goop on his forehead had smeared around during the night, masking most of his face in a strange parody of gore. Harry looked to Ron on the floor.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Ron as he got back to his feet. "I just thought I heard something."

Neville, Seamus, and Dean looked around suspiciously, but after a few minutes, they wandered back to bed. 

            Harry leaned over the edge of his bed. "Was I talking in my sleep again?"

"No. You weren't."

            Ron went back to bed and tried to sleep again, but the feeling that something was not right did not go away. He was still staring at the ceiling when the sun came up.  

******

            The cart tilted up on two wheels as they hit the turn. Remus and the goblin leaned toward the outside, to make sure they did not fly off the track. The goblin grinned like a maniac as he applied a bit of brake, and sparks sputtered out behind them. Remus pressed his hands to his ears, trying unsuccessfully to block out the terrible squeal of metal against metal. As the cart halted, the grinning goblin looked back at him.

            "My apologies sir. I forgot about your condition. Please follow me," the goblin said.

            Remus hopped out of their rickety transportation, and followed the goblin past countless rows of huge vaults, which grew steadily larger as they traveled deeper underground.

            "The Black vaults, sir," said the goblin, pointing to a ceiling-high door of solid silver.

            The goblin watched Remus as approached the door_. No doubt expecting quite a show if this doesn't work_, Remus thought morbidly. Silver would keep out most dark creatures, and it burned a werewolf's skin like a red-hot poker. Slowly, Remus took from his pocket the silver key Sirius Black had given him over a year ago.

            "_It's not as if I'll be appearing at Gringotts any time soon," the laughing dark-haired man had said. _

            _Or ever again. Remus searched for the lock but saw only a large round hole in the door, about twenty centimeters across.  He looked questioningly at the goblin._

            "The lock is in the back. You have to put your arm in there to reach it," the goblin said.

            "And I assume something thoroughly painful will happen if I have the wrong key?" Remus asked.

"You lose the arm."

"Splendid," Remus growled.

Gritting his teeth, he very gingerly put his arm into the hole, the silver key burning his fingertips all the while. He felt along the back of the wall and the key slid into place with a loud click. He carefully turned it to the left. The hole constricted around his upper arm, pinching off circulation. He tried to pull free, to no avail. Remus turned to the goblin, but he only watched passively. The pain intensified and his vision blacked out. 

 He blinked his eyes clear. With a final sharp tug he pulled his arm free and stumbled back. He looked behind him for the goblin and the cart, but they were gone. Instead, a narrow tunnel stretched out behind him. Torches lit the cramped space. Pushing his discomfort aside, Remus turned and followed it. He walked for a quarter of an hour before he came to another large door. This one was gold, and had a very simple keyhole in it. Engraved in the metal was the Black family motto, _Toujours Pur. Remus unlocked the door and stepped through._

Inside was a single circular room, pitted with cul-de-sacs. Remus passed a chamber filled with shining galleons, but ignored it. He was looking for something more valuable. The Black family was rumored to have owned a massive collection of dark texts, which would be, needless to say, incredibly important to the Order. They could not search for the books fifteen years earlier, because the Black matriarch was still alive, and they had not had sufficient time, in their current struggle, to devote to the task before that day. He bypassed a room full of paintings and another full of ornate cages before coming to the library. Someone had beaten him there.

Five large shelves occupied the small space, but no more then two dozen books remained, piled randomly on the ground in front of them. Remus sighed. _Nothing about transfigurative potions, but I can read the enchanting history of the Black family's victory over impurity_, he thought, sifting through the piles. He pushed aside another photo album and was about to leave when a stained old book caught his eye. Basic Transfiguration: Level Five by Renald Clearwater. On the old leather cover, in ink, familiar handwriting scrawled.

 **_Property of Sirius Black_**

Under that another hand had printed.

**_ King of the Gryffindors.          _**

Reverently Remus lifted the book from the floor and brushed off the layers of dirt and cobwebs. He flipped through the pages, which were filled with underlining and what must have seemed like very witty comments at the time. A few more of Sirius' old school books had been left on the floor. Remus collected them all, shrunk them and put them in his pocket.  He started to sigh again, but stopped himself halfway. _Quit feeling sorry for yourself_, muttered the little voice in the back of his head. A quick check of the rest of the vault showed him nothing he wanted to see. He walked out the door, which slammed with a reverberating clang behind him.

With the afternoon mostly wasted, Remus decided to get a late lunch. He headed for the Leaky Cauldron, but as it was crowded with many Ministry workers he recognized from the Werewolf Taskforce in the Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, he chose to transfigure his cloak into a coat and continued on into muggle London, hoping to find some place to eat there. 

As he did not spend much time in the crowded city when he could help it, he was not entirely sure what restaurants served palatable food at a reasonable price. He only had ten pounds in his wallet. Remus inhaled slowly so as not to alarm the muggles on the sidewalk around him. He could detect just a hint of baking scones, and followed that scent up the street. After several minutes of walking the wind changed direction. Fearing he would not be able to locate lunch, he sniffed the air more sharply. A woman in a jogging suit gave him an odd look but he ignored her. His eyes widened as he recognized another smell, completely unrelated to scones. He sprinted up the block.

Remus was not certain how far he had traveled before he found the alley. The narrow gap between towering brick walls was cluttered with stacks of wet newspapers, bags of rubbish, and broken bottles. A rusted dumpster sat a few meters in. The lid was propped open slightly by the excessive number of black plastic trash bags crammed into it.  Barely visible, sticking out between the bags was a limp pale hand.

******

            Harry walked up the staircase, eyes glued to his new copy of  The Perfect Countercurse, mail-ordered from Flourish and Blotts, delivered by Hedwig, and inspected by Professor McGonagall that morning. The first D.A. meeting of the year was scheduled for Friday evening and he planned to show everyone how to deflect a blasting hex back at its owner. Dumbledore had given them permission to practice in an empty classroom on the seventh floor, across from the abandoned north tower. Harry felt very odd about having posted flyers for the meeting all over the school. Without being outlaws, leading the group seemed a lot less fun and a lot more paper work. Harry was so engrossed in the book that he did not hear the group charging down the hallway, and barely leapt aside in time.

            Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, and two wizards Harry did not know rushed by, an occupied stretcher between them. The figure on the stretcher was covered in a white sheet. Terrified that someone he knew had been killed, Harry rushed after them. They went straight to the hospital wing, and did not take any notice of Harry as he followed them in the door. Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, rushed out to meet them. Harry supposed she must now be a member of the Order as well, as she did not question the presence of people in her hospital who were obviously not students. After a few whispered words with Lupin, she pulled back the sheet.

            Professor Snape's blank eyes stared up at the ceiling. His skin was more yellowed than usual and he did not respond when Pomfrey called his name and shook his shoulder. Harry would have thought him dead were it not for the faint snoring breaths coming from the Potions professor's overly large nose. Suddenly, Snape twitched.

            "…they were walking on the left…the door closes!" Snape shouted.

            Everyone in the room jumped in surprise. Pomfrey called his name again, but Snape did not answer. The nurse went through several healing and reviving spells before Snape spoke again, and whether it had anything to do with Pomfrey's efforts was questionable.

            "You eat with a fork, Moron!" Snape shouted loudly, twitching as he did so. 

            "A babbling beverage?" asked a wizard Harry didn't know. The man had long black hair in a braid down his back.

            "That wouldn't cause this degree of mental impairment," said the other stranger, in a gravelly voice. He wore a hooded red cloak that hid every bit of him.    

 "It's not a hex or a potion as far as my spells can tell," said Pomfrey quietly.

"Was he hit on the head?" asked Harry. 

            The adults all jumped again and stared at him.

            "How'd you get in here?" demanded Moody.

            "I walked in right behind you," Harry said smugly. He had yet to forgive Moody for stupefying Joan. "What happened to him?" Harry asked, pointing at Snape.

            "We don't know Harry, but you can't tell anyone you've seen him," said Lupin, as he walked over to him. The former professor began to push Harry out the door.

            "Go back to your classes, we'll tell you if there is any change," Lupin said.  Just as he pushed him into the hall, Lupin grabbed Harry's hand, pressing several small objects into in. Harry looked up at him, and Lupin winked right before slamming the door in Harry's face. For a moment Harry thought he had given him matches, but on closer inspection he saw they were miniaturized textbooks. After a final look at the door, Harry started up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

            Harry often imagined what it would be like to see Snape brought low. On a regular basis he used fantasies of Snape being injured or humiliated to get through Potions class with the biased, cruel, slimy, intolerable man, so as he gave the fat lady the password, Harry wondered why he did not feel more like celebrating. _Maybe it's because I know he was probably injured while working for the Order, Harry thought. __Or maybe it's because you didn't get to do the injuring, mumbled the little voice that might have been his conscience.   _

            As Harry entered the 6th year boys' dorm, he pushed all the chattering little voices out of his mind, to make room for the books Lupin had so mysteriously given him. He laid the five little books out in front of him on the bed spread. He glanced at the door for a moment, but then remembered Dean and Seamus were in Divination. Harry pointed his wand at each of the books in turn and said "Engorgio!" returning them to a normal size.

            Basic Transfiguration: Level Five by Renald Clearwater, Defense Against the Unknown, Basic Transfiguration: Level Three, Charms for all Ages,_ and The Potions Brewing Guide: Advanced, the titles read. The covers were all coated in a thick layer of graffiti, and Harry's heart sped up as he recognized the nicknames. All the books had belonged to the Marauders, a group consisting of Harry's father and his three closest friends. The majority of the writing belonged to none other then Sirius Black. Harry spent the next hour reading over the notes in the ledgers and title pages. Many of the comments did not make sense, no doubt depending on bizarre references and inside jokes, but a few of the messages were completely hilarious. _

            Though not bored, Harry grew impatient. Professor Lupin seemed to have a purpose in giving him the books. He lifted his wand and carefully tapped the cover of Defense Against the Unknown.

            "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Harry said.

            He hoped the passwords for the Marauders' Map would reveal something, but it had no effect on any of the books. Nor did any of the other passwords he tried in the next hour. He looked at his watch. Potions would start in another thirty minutes. He would have to come back to the books later. _What did I do with my essay? Harry scrambled about, looking through his cluttered trunk and desk for the paper he'd written the night before. He was about to try a summoning charm when he saw the edge of it, sticking out of under his bed. _

After freeing it from under some filthy shoes, Harry put a hand on his bed, to push himself back to his feet. He was not terribly surprised when his hand landed on one of the books he had been looking at. What did surprise him was the sudden hot feeling under his palm as it came to rest exactly in the center of the cover of _Basic Transfiguration: Level Five. The feeling faded a second later. Harry lifted the book and inspected it carefully. The cover looked exactly the same. He opened to the title page. Neat block printing had replaced the name of the book. _

            **_Remember to hide the book next time, Prongs, Moony's been carrying it around all day._**

            As Harry watched, the block letters faded away, and fancy scarlet script soaked into being on the paper.

******

      The air was humid and sweat ran in rivers down his back. Gnats flew into his eyes, forcing him to blink constantly, and the smell of manure nearly choked him. Despite the atmosphere of the greenhouse, Neville Longbottom was incredibly happy. The main reason for this was a sudden relief from guilt. Neville felt more then a little responsible for the injuries that befell his fellow students and friends, as he had not been in the Great Hall to help when "the incident" with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Harry had occurred, but everyone was fine now. Harry had woken up three days previous, and was now attending classes. Harry seemed to be in perfect health, except for a slight bit of depression, but anyone would be depressed really, if they had to wear a potion that smelled that awful all over their face, all the time. 

And the best news had come at breakfast that very morning. Professor Snape had disappeared without a trace, and had not shown up to any of his classes. If Neville's prayers succeeded, Snape would not be present in the evening Potions classes either. They were working on healing potions that week, and Neville needed to learn them especially well to get the N.E.W.T.s he needed. Without the teacher hovering over his cauldron shouting every few minutes, he might actually have a chance to brew it properly.

Neville began to hum as he transplanted the last of the henbane into flower box eight, finishing one of his extra credit Herbology assignments, and continued humming as he took a quick shower, grabbed a light lunch in the Great Hall and went to the library to finish up his homework for Potions. Madam Pince, the librarian, gave him a scathing look as he walked past her towards the secluded table in the herbology section, his favorite study spot. As he unrolled his parchment and opened his textbook there was a prickling feeling on the back of his neck.

"Hello Verdad!" he said cheerfully.

The table creaked as she settled herself on the edge of it.

"How'd ya know I was there?" asked the tall, dark haired girl.

Neville shrugged and looked up at her. She was grinning rather widely. The Slytherin girl had been plaguing him with homework questions for the past two weeks.  Whenever he stepped out of Gryffindor tower by himself she would appear with an essay or a test, asking him to point out and explain her mistakes to her. Neville had asked her why she did not get help from someone within her own house. She only smiled and told him it was because he was so much smarter then anyone she could ask in Slytherin. It was obviously flattery with a purpose, but Neville found he did not mind so much. 

"Guess what." Verdad said.

"I don't know, what?"

"You have to guess."

"You got in another fight with the seventh years?"

"No. Better."

"You found ten galleons?"

"No."

"You made the Quidditch team?"

"No! Alright, enough of this $#!%." she said, and with an odd flourishing motion of her arms she held up a roll of parchment for inspection. It was an essay, entitled "Human Transfiguration," and there was only a single line of red across the bottom. 

_Exceeds Expectation, Keep up the good work. _Professor McGonagall's neat handwriting declared.__

"Congratulations," said Neville looking over the paper. She had done that particular one without his help.

"Absolutely brilliant isn't it?" she crowed, smiling. "I think I'll get it framed. And thank you, of course," she said, and before Neville could form a "you're welcome" she bent forward and kissed him on the cheek.  His face burned and he stared down at his textbook. He tried to control the huge stupid grin struggling to form.

"A-a-a-a…" he heard himself stuttering like a fool. _Not a big deal, this kind of thing happens all the time. Say something!  You're acting like a stupid first year. It's not a big deal, stop staring at the book, she'll think you're a poof. _

When he looked up again, she was watching him very intently.

"You're turning awfully red," she said with a slight smirk.

"Th-th-th-…" Neville struggled to spit out a sentence. His brain froze. She hopped off the table, leaned over him, and put her hands on the arms of his chair, disrupting Neville's plan to run for it.

"Why are you blushing Neville?" she whispered, moving closer.   

He tried to look back at the book, but her hand came under his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact. The ring in her lower lip grazed his chin a moment before their mouths touched.

******

            Ron Weasley was certain he had stepped into the strangest Potions class ever. The first and foremost source of peculiarity was the lack of the world's worst teacher. Rather than Snape, Professor Dumbledore was overseeing the class, instructing patiently and not deducting points for mistakes.  Under most circumstances Ron would have expected a pleasant hum of chatter in the room, but all he heard was nervous chopping, grinding, and stirring. 

Harry sat on one side of Ron, brooding thoughtfully. Hermione sat on his other side, mumbling to herself every once in a while about S.P.E.W. and the Ministry.  At the end of the table, Neville, who usually begged Hermione to help him with his assignment, stared into space, looking flushed and dazed.  No other Gryffindors had been allowed into the N.E.W.T. preparatory Potions class.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws all cautiously kept their eyes on their work. The Slytherins in the class, all the sixth years including Crabbe and Goyle (who couldn't tell a cauldron from a toad, and only got into the class because Snape was a rotten, cheating, so-and-so, in Ron's opinion.), were also very quiet. They would look at Draco Malfoy from time to time, but he would only shake his head. Whatever stunt they had been planning that day would be postponed due to the presence of the Headmaster.  

The moment the clock struck seven, every single student sprinted for the door. 

Harry grabbed Hermione's and Neville's arms and began to drag them up the steps to Gryffindor tower.

"Hurry up Ron!" Harry hissed, as they passed Malfoy and his gang.

Malfoy started to say something, but Ron struck him in the solar plexus with an elbow as he rushed by. Crabbe and Goyle looked to their leader for instructions, but as the wind had been knocked out of him, all Draco could do was gasp for air.  Feeling better, Ron sprinted up the stairs after his friends. Somehow they collected Ginny along the way to the 6th year boy's dorm. They all crowded around Harry's bed, but Harry suddenly looked suspiciously at the wall behind Ron.  A portrait of a desert landscape hung on the wall of the room. Ron did not remember seeing it before. Harry rushed to the painting, looking incredibly angry.

"I should have known!" he growled. Harry snatched several books off his bed and ran for the door. The others stood watching him.

"Come on. Hurry up!" he said, waving his arm impatiently before rushing back down the stairs. 

They ran after him, through the twisting corridors and staircases of the school, until they arrived in the seventh floor corridor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls. The magical door to the Room of Requirement had already appeared and without pause Harry entered.

Instead of the D.A. classroom, filled with tools to help them practice defensive spells, the room was almost completely empty. Five cushioned chairs and a coffee table were the only furniture, and the room was much smaller then it had been. The walls were completely bare. On the table sat a sneak-o-scope and a strange device covered in long metal antenna.  Harry set the books on the table.

"Close the door, hurry!" he said.

Ron, the last one in, obeyed.

"What's this all about, then?" asked Ginny. "Why are we rushing around? Is some one following us?"

"Dumbledore, he has all the paintings spying for him. That's how he knows so much about what's going on in the school. I thought the dorms were safe, but then that painting showed up while we were in potions class," Harry said, his eyes moving over each of their faces in turn. Hermione looked a bit doubtful but did not speak the thought that was forming lines in her forehead.

"So what are we doing that Dumbledore shouldn't see?" Ron asked, now very interested. 

"This!" Harry said, opening a rather worn-looking old transfiguration book. 

Ron could see scarlet ink on the title page, but then Hermione touched the corner of the book and in the blink of an eye the scarlet writing was gone, replaced by black print_. **Property of Sirius Black**, the page now read._

"What happened?" asked Neville.

"A concealing spell with an identifier charm," stated Hermione. "Only particular people involved in the casting of the spell can touch the book. Is this something you and Sirius made, Harry?" Hermione spoke Sirius' name so softly it was barely audible

"No this is something else the Marauders made. The book thinks I'm my dad." Harry said.

"Who are the Marauders?" asked Neville.

Harry was about to speak and from the look on his face the tale would be long and morbid, so Ron cut him off, giving Neville the short version, (though Ron was still not certain why Neville was so involved in their group all of a sudden.)

"Harry's dad, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew were all best friends at Hogwarts: they had a little gang and called themselves the Marauders. Pettigrew became a Death Eater and framed Black for murder, and then in fourth year Pettigrew tried to kill Harry. You remember Scabbers, my pet rat?" Ron paused until Neville nodded. "That was Peter Pettigrew in his Animagus form. So back to the book."

Neville looked more confused but did not interrupt again as the group's attention returned to Harry.

"Professor Lupin gave me this book, this morning while they were bringing Snape in to the hospital wing."

"Was he hurt?" asked Ginny.

"Who? Snape?"

She nodded.

"He was babbling incoherently about forks when they kicked me out. They didn't know what happened to him, or maybe they just didn't want to tell me, but the book!"

 Harry closed the cover again and put his hand in the center of it. When he opened the book the scarlet print had returned. They all crowded around him, reading over his shoulder.

            **Animagus: Transformation Through Will**

"Anybody else want to give it a try?" Harry asked, with a sly grin on his face.   

 *****

            For Harry, the next day flew bye. Preparing for the D.A. meeting, make-up homework, and secretly reading about Animagi took up nearly every moment of his time. Every so often he was struck with a strange feverish head ache that made him sure he was about to get the flu. He was knew he was doomed when he checked the time and realized he had forgotten to include Quidditch practice in his over loaded schedule. He grabbed up his broom and sprinted down to the pitch.

             The field was already crowded when he arrived.  Ginny, Katie, Ron and he were returning to the team from the previous year. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, the rather awful beaters who had replaced Fred and George Weasley, had graduated, as had their Chasers, Alicia and Angelina.   The team was holding tryouts that day for replacements. Professor McGonagall nodded to Harry as he ran past. She had omnioculars in one hand and her wand in the other. Harry knew he was supposed to be 'supervised' whenever he was outside, but he was sure McGonagall would have been at the practice anyway, as she was very concerned with all things Quidditch. 

Ron had been appointed captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team while Harry was in a coma, as Katie Bell, the ranking member of the team, refused the job. She wanted to avoid "Oliver-itis"--the bizarre mental disorder that seemed to strike every Gryffindor captain--so that she could pass her N.E.W.T.s. The disease was most insidious, with symptoms involving insomnia, anorexia and amnesia of anything unrelated to Quidditch. Ron began to show symptoms at the first practice, starting it off with an aggressive speech.

            "Quidditch is one of Hogwarts proudest traditions," Ron began, "For hundreds of years Wizards all over the world have played the game, and taken it seriously. Any one who can not take Quidditch seriously should leave now. If you're going to abandon the team for little things like clubs or parties or O.W.L.s we don't want you here. We've had the cup for two years now, and we don't want to give it up, not to Hufflepuff, not to Ravenclaw and I'll be dead before I hand it over to Slytherin. We practice three times a week, two hours per practice, and if your skills aren't up to scratch you'll be expected to drill on your own time. Is that clear?" Everyone nodded.   

"Alright everyone, we're going to do some basic drills, and then we'll spilt up into practice teams and scrimmage. The current team will be taking notes on your progress. At the end of try-outs we'll make our decision. Get to it!"  

            The beater tryouts went reasonably well, though one boy, Arthur Amines, narrowly avoided a major accident. He flew too far outside the Quidditch pitch, attempting to outflank a Bludger and ran into the new null-wards the teachers had put up around the school for Harry's benefit. The wards canceled out all spells that passed though them, so Arthur's suddenly un-enchanted broom dropped out of under him. Fortunately, Ginny Weasley was on the other side of the ward and was able to catch him with a levitation spell.

            The Chaser try-outs were a bit muddled, as Ron was trying to supervise the Beater tryouts and play goalie simultaneously, but eventually they got things sorted out. At the end of the afternoon they chose their new beaters: a stocky third year girl named Natalie McDonald and a fourth year boy, Normandy Branstone. They did not work together as well as the Weasley twins had, but Natalie hit Bludgers with a force and aim that Harry had never seen before, and Normandy flew with the skill of a Seeker. There new Chaser was Milton Blackwater, another third year. He was a bit of a Quaffle hog but Ginny laughingly said they could beat that out of him. After the selection process was over, the team practiced for another hour and a half, before they had to relinquish the field to Ravenclaw.

            Harry was walking off the field as Cho Chang walked on. They paused for a moment. Harry was unsure whether to say hello or not, and finally settled on a nod. Cho returned the gesture and continued on. _Not as awkward as I thought it would be.  _

Milton, Natalie, and Normandy seemed impressed beyond words by the Quidditch locker rooms. None of them even commented on the over powering smell of sweat socks that neither charm nor soap seemed capable of removing. Ron led them all to the wardrobe where the excess robes were kept. After much trial and error the new members were fitted to Ron's satisfaction.

"You have to treat your uniforms with respect, always hang them up after practice and make sure they're clean. We don't want to look like a bunch of Slytherins out there." Ron said. He started talking about proper glove maintenance when Ginny cut him off.

"You can ignore my brother from now on, as he always leaves his uniform waddled up on the floor of his locker."

"And let's not forget the lessons of Alexander Bones," said Katie in a low mystical tone, "Before your time Ron and Harry, but his skills as a Chaser were unmatched. Some say the secret of his success were in the fact that he never had his uniform cleaned after a wining game, so as not wash the luck out. For some reason the other team stayed at a distance and up wind."

The new players all smiled, and Ron looked disgruntled, but before he could go into another speech Ginny suggested they get back to Gryffindor tower, as she'd had Dean "acquire" them some Butterbeer.

As they walked past the fat lady, the party met them full swing. Someone had brought up a large Wizarding-Wireless-Phonograph and it seemed as if every one in the house had come to the common room to talk loudly and dance badly. Dean had apparently acquired some Fire Whisky as well, and had consumed enough of it to be in a sharing mood. Hermione was looking rather desperate trying to confiscate it without starting a riot, and in the end only managed to limit Deans generosity to those in sixth year and above.

Harry's head ached terribly and he squeezed his way over to a seat by the fire place. He put his glasses on the arm of his chair and rubbed at his eyes. The pain started in his temples and made a circuit through the back of his skull, then up into his forehead. He rubbed at the sides of his head hoping to somehow improve circulation to his brain. All he managed to do was get Professor Graypond's mind-sealer all over his fingers.

  A dancing couple bumped into the back of his chair and his glasses went flying. Not really thinking Harry darted forward. With a spectacular dive he snatched up his glasses a moment before they shattered on the hearth. Quit a few people paused to applaud him. With a mock bow Harry climbed back to his feet, and returned to his chair. His head ache grew worse, but he didn't want to skive off too early, and be labeled the crazy unsocial loaner. He sat watching the flames with his eyes half closed.

"Not feeling well?"

Harry looked to his left, as Natalie squatted down next to his chair.

"Not really," Harry answered.

"You want me to get you something to drink?" she asked.

"No thanks, I just don't feel like partying at the moment."

"Me neither," Natalie said in a low voice "I don't think any of these people really do. Look at them. They're all trying to hard." She waved her hand expansively. "I think they're just doing this because they're scared they won't get another chance, with you-know-who back and all."

Harry tried not to grind his teeth, as Voldemort was the last person he wanted to think about. Natalie seemed to catch on.

"I'm not trying to bug you about it or anything. I just mean nobody'll blame you if you want to sneak off. I'll even cover for you, tell them 'Potter's gone to take a piss,' or something. You look half asleep anyway."

"Yeah I guess I'll turn in." Harry muttered. He tried to smile at her but he thought his expression was closer to a grimace. He got up and she immediately took his seat. He wondered slightly at the altruism of her actions as he climbed the steps to the boy's dormitory.       

            As Harry sat in bed he thought about how different he felt since he started taking Professor Graypond's medication. His scar did not burn anymore, and to test it again he said "Voldemort" under his breath, but even then there was no reaction. That was good he supposed, but he did not feel quite awake. He knew he had to be, as he was walking around and the details of his surroundings were very clear and un-dreamlike, but something was off. He had not dreamed about the black dog since the medication either, and he was strongly tempted to wash the red goop off his face for just one night at least, to see if Snuffles would return. The sounds of other footsteps in the dorm pushed the idea out of his mind. Despite the pain of his next thoughts, he knew they were true.

            _Even if that is Sirius some how, it's not right. Not if it means Voldemort could get in here again and hurt people. _

            On that bitter note he closed his eyes.  

            He walked through the empty halls. All the doors were open but they contained only darkness and he ignored them. He stumbled and looked down. Under his feet were the remains of the statues of the magical brethren. He walked gingerly through the atrium to the stairs. It took forever to walk down them. Harry shivered. _The Ministry Building was never this cold before, he thought. He stumbled on. Every door he came to seemed slightly out of place but he opened them and went through all the same, through the department of Mysteries and the spinning room and past the glass cases filled with quivering disembodied brains. He slipped on the wet floor but climbed to his feet again._

            At last he came to the door. It opened before he could put his hands on it. The staircase stretched down before him, and so far away it was almost lost in the mist at the bottom of the amphitheater, was the arch. The sound of lapping water floated up to him. He started down.

            As he approached the arch he could see the curtains whipping about in a wind he could not feel.  Every few seconds a hand would reach out, trying desperately to scrabble past the curtains, only to disappear again in the next rush of wind. From beneath the curtains a stream of oily water ran. It spilled out over the edge of the dais on which the arch rested and covered the floor. Harry paused on the last step. The water had come all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

It was pitch black and freezing cold as he stepped into it. His feet sank down as if the stones of the floor had turned to mud. As he splashed out towards the arch, the dais drifted further away, and with every step the water grew deeper.

"No! Stop! It's not fair!" he shouted struggling clumsily through water now up to his arm pits.

But the dais did not stop drifting, rather it sped its departure until it was little more then a shadowy pinpoint in an endless sea. The water lapped around Harry's ears and he began to swim. Something brushed across his toes but he ignored it. His arms and legs burned but he was certain he was gaining on the arch. When a hard scaly thing bumped him from the side, he pushed it away in annoyance and paddled faster. It was harder to ignore the hand that wrapped around his ankle and pulled him beneath the surface.

Water rushed up his nose and he struggled back towards the air. The thing holding his ankle let go, and he broke through. Choking and sputtering he looked around. The stony ceiling of the cavernous room had vanished and a clear starry sky drifted over head. Harry whirled around, treading water. He could see the dark outline of land in the distance, but it was far away. His heart hammered faster, he turned. In the distance he saw a faint light rising above the water.

_That can't be Hogwarts_, he thought, trying to still his chattering teeth. _I'm in the lake, I can't be in the lake, I'm still dreaming, I'm still in my room, this isn't real… His thoughts were cut short by a pair of lantern like eyes looking up at him from beneath his paddling feet. Hands locked around his ankles and dragged him under again. _

The water closed over his hands and the faint light of the stars drifted into nothing. He was blind to every thing except the florescent eyes of the creature dragging him down. _It's a grindylow, he thought. Around him other pairs of eyes appeared, and the water filled with a strange combination of chatters and clicks. He was not a strong enough swimmer to pull the grindylow back to the surface with him. Harry bent double and tried to pry the creature's fingers from his legs, but as he did so two of the creatures' friends grabbed his wrists. _

Harry thrashed about in desperation as bubbles of air drifted up and away from him. Flashes of light appeared before his eyes and for a moment he thought someone was coming to rescue him, but as the flashes became more frequently he realized it was just his brain, misfiring for want of air. Pressure pushed in on his ears as they descended. He kicked with all his might. The hands let go and for a moment he was free. He tried to swim up ward but his arms and legs were lead. The grindylows circled him. The chattering in the water increased in frequency and he was certain they were laughing at him. He was almost numb with cold, except for his lungs, which had not given up their persistent burning. Despite this, the sharp pain of teeth on his arm still caused him to cry out, giving up the last of his oxygen. The grindylows began to feed.                  


	13. The no smoking section

Disclaimer: If anyone's getting money off this story it isn't me.

Warning: Some content is not appropriate for younger viewers, parental discretion in advised.

Author's Note: I love reviewers.  Should you ever walk up to me on the street and say "I reviewed your story" I will kiss you. I suggest you try this with random people you meet. Good thing I didn't give out my name. Thank you everyone who reviewed. I don't like to put long author's notes in because I think it takes away from the story. If you really want a response to your comments or questions I'll e-mail you. Just say "e-mail me" or something.  Thanks again for reading.      

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 13**

**The No Smoking Section**

His teeth knocked against something hard as his back arched.  Water spurted out of his mouth and he coughed. His hands clenched around nothing, and he twisted with out leverage in the freezing mud. The loud hacking coughs shook him about until the edges of his vision turned red. Harry rolled onto his side and retched, more lake water pouring out.

He lay shivering in the mud, the slick stuff flowing into his ear, but his head hurt so badly he did not care. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sleep, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

"You shouldn't sleep in the mud, it causes repetitive mispronunciations syndrome and toenail deformity," said a detached and slightly scolding voice.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," Harry moaned and tried to curl up in a ball to avoid more shaking. 

"We should probably get back to the castle now, the thestrals are circling."

After several long painful minutes Harry finally figured out who was talking to him.

"Luna," he said quietly.

"Yes, that's me," she said.

"Where am…" he broke off as his chest spasmed again. When he finally stopped coughing he was shaking all over. Luna Lovegood put her hands in his armpits and tried to levy him to his feet. After much slipping and struggling he ended up in a kneeling position. He was breathing hard and coughing intermittently, but at least he was warming up a bit. The only problem with that was as circulation returned so did feeling. The stinging sensation in his arms grew and slowly he looked down at them. The sleeves of his pajamas were ripped to shreds and blood was oozing slowly from dozens of crescent shaped bites. He tried to wipe the mud of one of the cuts on his right arm but froze.

_That can't be right I still feel them_. He raised his left hand before his eyes. It was slicked with mud, and for a moment he thought he had gotten it wrong, miscounted somehow. He wiggled his thumb, _one_, then his index finger, _two_, then his middle finger,_ three_, then…then… He leaned to the side and retched again. 

"Yes, you really should go to Madam Pomfrey about that," said Luna. She threw some article of clothing around his shoulders. He looked towards her. Luna was disheveled and covered in mud and her lip was bleeding. Her eyes were as unfocused as ever, but the rest of her facial expression seemed to be directed at him.      

"My fingers are missing," he said dumbly.

"I haven't seen them, sorry."

Luna knelt down next to him and pulled one of his arms around her shoulders. With a grunt she pulled them both to their feet and they staggered up the bank toward the castle.

Harry's mind remained a hazy mess as they slowly traveled toward the school, and it seemed days before they finally arrived at the castle steps. Once they passed through the gates Luna took her wand from behind her ear and levitated Harry onto a stretcher, they were half way to the hospital wing when Headmaster Dumbledore arrived. 

******

            "Luna, how is it you knew Mr. Potter was in the lake?" asked Professor Flitwick.

            "The dog informed me."

            "The dog?" 

"He was quite insistent that I go out and fetch Harry."

"A dog came into your dormitory and told you to get Harry out of the lake?"

"No, how would a dog get into the girls dormitory?"

"Then how…"

"I think it may have been a Grim rather then an actual dog. I'm fairly certain I was asleep when I saw it, as it just suddenly appeared and started barking, and didn't wake anyone else up. I suppose, if it was a Grim, I'll be dead soon. I hope they have chocolate pudding at lunch."

"A Grim spoke to you?"

"No."

"But you said it told you to go get Harry?"

"No I didn't. Grims can't speak,"

Professor Flitwick  pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Luna, please explain to me how you learned Harry was in the lake."

"The dog, or possibly the Grim, appeared in the dormitory and started barking."

"And then?"

"I knew that Harry had gone into the lake." 

"But the information was conveyed how?"

"It was barking."

The professor nodded slowly, and rather then compound the frustrated headache that was building up behind his eyes, he said "Please continue your story."

"After the dog informed me Harry was in the lake I put on my shoes and bathrobe, and went to the kitchen."

"The kitchen?" Flitwick interrupted.

"Yes, for crackers and pineapple."

He stared at her quizically but she continued unperturbed.

"Then I went down to the lake, broke open the pineapple and threw it into the water, to summon merpeople."

She paused for a moment as if waiting for him to interrupt again but he only nodded for her to continue.

"When the mermaids arrived I explained to them through semaphore that Harry was in the lake, and they found him, and brought him to the shore, at which time I gave them the crackers."

"Crackers?"

"Mermaids appreciate crackers. It is terribly difficult to make them under water you know." When he nodded she continued.  "I dragged Harry onto the shore, and as he wasn't breathing I had to resuscitate him. Then he threw up and I helped him walk to the castle. I would have used a levitation spell to carry him but we were right in the middle of the new wards so there wasn't really the opportunity. Will there be chocolate pudding at lunch?"    

****

He lay on his back watching dust motes drift down towards him. When that strained his eyes too much, he would stare at the folds in the white curtain surrounding his bed, any thing at all to avoid looking at his left hand. The other bite marks had healed and faded to pale white scars, but Madam Pomfrey's potions had been unable to regenerate his two missing fingers. She told him it required a much more powerful healing potion then she kept in stock 

The door creaked open and Harry instinctively turned his head toward the sound. His stomach roiled as he accidentally looked at his swollen, dead looking left hand. He gagged slightly, but as he had not eaten anything but potions since being dragged from the lake he was not in danger of making a mess on himself. Two sets of footsteps made their way to the curtain. Dumbledore pulled aside the curtains, revealing himself, Professor McGonagall, and floating in the air a few feet behind them, Professor Graypond.

"Good morning Harry," said the Headmaster gently.

Harry nodded in response.

"How do you feel?"

"I've been better."

The headmaster nodded solemnly. "We have some things we need to discuss. The first being, do you have a history of sleep walking?"

"No," said Harry,

"Not even as a very young child?"

"No." Harry was not certain this was true, but as it was hard to sleep walk inside of a cupboard he was sure no one else would be able to tell him about it.

"Then I think we must assume it has something to do with the potion." As the Headmaster said these words Professor Graypond floated forward.

  "There's nothing in that potion I can take out without making it useless, just tie him down when he sleeps," the skeletal creature said.

Harry of course did not like that idea at all, but before he could complain, Headmaster Dumbledore provided another solution. "The linking spell currently at work in the castle could be expanded to contain Harry as well, that would keep him out of the lake at least."

"And some additional charms on the fat lady to keep him from wandering out during the night," suggested McGonagall.

Harry, feeling rather out of the loop, went back to staring at the dust traversing the ceiling. His attention was only regained when the doors of the hospital wing again burst open, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger entered. Hermione had a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet under her arm and a worried look on her face. Harry was rather relieved when they did not ask idiotic questions like "how are you feeling?" Perhaps they were getting too used to visiting him. He was sure he had spent more time in the hospital then in classes that year. Without ceremony, Hermione unfurled the paper, showing them all the headline. 

**Boy-Who-Lived Attempts Suicide:**

**Depressed Young Man Rescued From Watery Grave.**

            Harry said something inappropriate then, but fortunately his head of house could not hear him over her own expletives.

******

There was an art to making coffee. It could not just be poured into a cup and set on the edge of a desk, there had to be a tray and a little pot of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes. And of course a smile was imperative. You could not serve the Minister of Magic coffee without a sufficiently submissive smile on your face or he would suspect you were after his job. All of these things Charles Smith learned on his first day of work as a junior assistant to the Undersecretary to the Minister, not so much from being told as from receiving glares from the Undersecretary until everything, including his face, was arranged properly. Only when Umbridge exposed her tiny pointed teeth, in some bizarre attempt to show approval did Charles know he had permission to present the morning coffee to Fudge. If he had not taken on the job intending to destroy both of them, he knew he would be planning to by the end of his first day.

With the first cup of coffee, presented at 10 am, Charles had planted magical listening devices on the Minister's desk and on the back of his chair. With the second cup of coffee, delivered at 11am, Charles had stolen the keys to the Minister's filing cabinet. Upon returning to collect the used cups at 11:30, while the Minister was off to lunch, Charles had copied every single file in the cabinet. After a quick shrinking spell, to fit the files in his pocket, and a pause to restock the candy in the ornate tray on the Minister's desk, Charles returned to his desk in the lobby and began to compile his report for the head of the Order.    

*****

He tightened the belt once more. The worn leather creaked as he gave it an experimental tug. Satisfied, Kingsley Shacklebolt marched out of the room and down the stairs. Tonks and Lupin were already waiting for him. They had tried their best to dress in muggle attire. Tonks had on black suit and a vinyl rain slicker, Lupin wore blue jeans and a sweat shirt. They would all be enchanted to repel attention, but Kingsley thought even without it they would not attract too much notice.

"Ready?" Kingsley asked.

They both nodded and together they raised their wands, and disapparated.

The town was high up on a hill, its view of the sea blocked by a massive industrial cannery. The air smelled of seaweed, fish, and very faintly of smoke. At last count the population of Harrington had numbered 970. It had apparently dropped to zero in the past few days and the Department of Muggle Relations had taken great steps to conceal how. 

Kingsley, Lupin, and Tonks stood back to back in the middle of the town's main street, their wands drawn. No cars drove on the cracked pavement. Store windows were smashed in and the sidewalk was littered with glass. Doors hung open. A strong wind passed through the town, rattling loose shingles on rooftops, and distantly the ocean sloshed onto the shore, but no other sound, human or animal, could be heard. The bright midday sun did nothing to banish the sinister shadow inside the surrounding buildings.

"I think this would be a right awful time to split up." said Tonks in a near whisper. 

They walked slowly through the empty town, looking carefully for traps or observers. In front of the First Harvest Bakery a canister of flour had been upended, hundreds of footprints spread it up and down the street. Lupin bent down and inspected the tracks, waving his wand over them and mumbling, until they glowed faintly. Light flowed up from the prints and formed a tiny sphere above Lupin's outstretched palm. The sphere circled three times over and under his hand and then stopped hovering beneath his knuckles.

"Three nights ago, at about two in the morning." Lupin said finally. He wrote the date and time in a small notebook he pulled from his pocket. They followed the tracks to an empty lot at the end of Main Street.  The weedy grass in the lot had been trampled flat. Hundreds of footprints were broken up by large tire tracks. Kingsley was no expert in muggle vehicles, but the tracks had to have come from an eighteen-wheeler at least. Tonks took out a camera and the air filled with flashing lights and clicks. They spread out looking for evidence.

The foot prints led to the tire tracks implying that the muggles had abandoned, or been forced to abandon their homes and were transported elsewhere. There was no evidence of magic yet, only veiled hints that would have made the hair on the back of Kingsley's neck stand up, had he not shaved his head that morning. He walked towards Lupin who was digging at one of the tracks. Kingsley looked down over his should.

"What is it?"

"A purse I think," he said, freeing it from the dirt. Lupin scraped off most of the mud. The purse was fake brown leather. Inside was a broken compact mirror, a wallet, an envelope stuffed full of pounds, and the deed to a house three blocks away. The I.D. in the wallet declared it the property of Emma Johnson.

They searched the lot for several more minutes, finding dropped possessions and articles of clothing. 

"We'll need to check out the police station," said Kingsley. It was there they found the first witness.

The station was a small single story building. The door was wide open, and the steps leading up to it were littered with papers. Kingsley went first into the lobby, eyes darting. The white plaster walls were peppered with holes. A desk lay on its side, perhaps it had been used as cover. The cabinets were all open, and an empty gun rack lay exposed. Tonks slipped on the shell casings on the floor, and was forced to catch hold of Lupin's arm. Kingsley led them out the back of the room, to the holding cells. The first thing Kingsley noticed was the stench, like a latrine in direct sunlight. The two men already in the room paid it no mind.  

The officer was in full uniform, lying on the floor. His gun lay ignored a few inches from his right hand. A huge black fly buzzed around his head. They watched as it landed on the man's wide staring eyes to lick up moisture, then took off again as some sluggish reflex caused him to blink. The rise and fall of his chest was nearly imperceptible. The prisoner lay halfway out of his cell. Somehow his foot had caught in between the crossed bars making up the door. He also stared up at the ceiling, but he did not blink at all when the solitary fly landed on him. His chest was completely still.  

"Dementors." Lupin said.

"Keys still in the lock," said Tonks, pointing at the door. "He must have been letting that poor man out when they got them." She snapped a few pictures.

"At least we know what we're looking for." Lupin said.

He paced the length of the room, setting in motion a complex charm. Kingsley recognized the spell as an identifier. If Lupin did it correctly it should tell them how many dementors passed through the area recently. It was a spell few Aurors could pull off. Once more Kingsley shook his head. Lupin could have been a great help to their department.

Lupin's pacing took him around the unmoving men, and with a final raising of his wand he set off the spell.

"Vidus!"

  A ring of greenish smoke formed around Lupin's feet and expanded outward, gaining speed as the circumference increased. The ring left bits of itself behind as it traveled, in specific places on the floor. 

"That can't be right," muttered Lupin.

"What can't?" asked Tonks.

Lupin pointed to the eight pools of smoke on the floor. "That means eight of those things were in here at the time these men lost their souls." Lupin strode out past them into the lobby again. The ring was flowing out the door then. Lupin pointed his fingers while he mumbled. "Twenty three more out here," he said, jogging down the steps. The two Aurors followed.

The ring continued to expand, but it was slowing down and losing consistency. Kingsley assumed this was because it was spending so much of itself as it went. As it reached the end of the block there was not enough left to see. Lupin was turning in a circle counting the puddles of smoke.

"How many dementors were there on Azkaban last year?" Lupin asked quietly.

"One hundred and thirty seven, why?" asked Kingsley.

"There were two hundred and ninety four of them on this block three nights ago."

"That can't be." said Tonks. "There would have to be soulless people lying around everywhere. Over a hundred of them, and they don't exactly have the brains to hide themselves."

"Actually that would mean there were one hundred plus soulless people lying some where before the Dementors arrived in this town. It takes seven days for them to reproduce after they've fed." Lupin was looking up the street as he spoke. "And we've only counted one block worth."

 "Three thousand eight hundred and ninety four, assuming all of them were in that town that night, which is not all that likely. It's obvious some one is covering this up, and I wonder how many empty muggle towns we haven't found yet. Sir if Fudge is hiding attacks of this magnitude…," Remus paused in his report.

"…Something must be done," finished Bill Weasley.

"How many victims did you say you found in the village?" asked Hestia Jones.

"Twenty five, and they were not well concealed. If someone did go to that town with the intention of hiding the incident from us, they did a poor job.  The tire tracks that Kingsley described give me hope that most of the town's people escaped, but if they did, some report would have leaked to the muggle press, and we've heard nothing," said Lupin. 

Dumbledore nodded gravely from his place at the head of the table. "Mr. Chapman?" he asked.

"Present?" said a slightly confused man near the end of the room. Daniel Chapman was a newer recruit. Kingsley thought of the background check they had done on him; a muggle-born with a muggle wife and child. He had been under investigation by the ministry because he made his living as a magician, entertaining muggle audiences.  He was later exonerated when all of his magic was proved fraudulent.   The man was average in height, and had fairly unremarkable features, brown hair and eyes, no scars or tattoos, but he drew attention any way as he stood. He was still in his performers' costume, a morbid black outfit with bits and pieces of outlandish costume jewelry.

"Mr. Chapman, I would like you to locate survivors of  Harrington, or their remains if it comes to that. Use muggle methods of search. We do not know how much the Minister knows of this, and I intend to confront him with the incident on Monday. Your search should be relatively unhampered until then. I remember you had a fairly strong Patronus seventh year. Brush up on it before you set out."

"Yes sir." Chapman said in a small voice, returning to his seat.

"That was the final report, are there any other matters to discuss?" Dumbledore asked in quiet but carrying voice.

"Sir?" asked a short thin woman a few seats down from Kingsley. Charlotte Glintford; according to her background report she was the owner of a charms for hire business in Wales. No criminal record, no muggle ties, no reason to put herself in the Dark Lord's path. Kingsley had voiced doubts about her to Dumbledore more then once.

"Yes Ms. Glintford?"

"I think we've all heard something of the rumor and I know it's not relevant to anything we have discussed so far, but…" She paused for a moment as if gathering her courage. "Is it true the boy-who-lived tried to commit suicide?"

Lupin made a fist and for a moment bared his teeth, but the slip in composure was gone nearly as fast as it appeared. Kingsley watched him look on impassively and let the Headmaster answer.

"As with so many other things the Daily Prophet reports, that rumor is most definitely untrue. As I have stated to the press and to the minister Mr. Potter had a reaction to a potion he was given to treat his headaches and was sleep walking. We have taken steps to ensure he will not end up outside should it happen again. Any other questions?"

There were none. As the group got up to leave Kingsley thought Ms. Glintford looked slightly disappointed.  

*****

It had tasted like car exhaust smells, and it sent stabbing pains through his entire arm. So slowly it was almost imperceptible, two tiny distinct bumps had appeared on the raw wound where the last two fingers of his left hand had been. As the day wore on, Harry went to Charms and Herbology, half listening to the lessons and half watching his fingers grow back.  He was half fascinated and half disgusted with the process. The new flesh looked disturbingly similar to the temporary body Peter Pettigrew had helped Voldemort to create, and the half formed fingers would twitch and grasp of their own accord. Ron seemed equally fascinated and Harry noticed him staring open mouth more then once as the fingers started randomly scrabbling at the desk on which Harry's otherwise unmoving hand rested.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron found seats in the Great Hall and had started their lunch when the owls arrived. A huge owl with tufts of feathers forming sharply pointed horns on its head landed in front of Ron. It held out its leg and stared at him with sad yellow eyes. Ron made no move to take the letter from it.

"It's Bill's," he said in a low voice. Harry could not read the expression his face. Ron and the owl seemed to be having a staring contest. "I sent it back unopened the last time." Ron continued. "Bill shouldn't be lecturing me."

"About what?" asked Harry.

"Nothing." Ron muttered. The owl hooted softly and Ron grudgingly took the envelope from it, but stuffed it in his pocket rather then reading it.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. When Harry thought the awkwardness had settled out he leaned forward and his two friends did the same. "I was thinking we could start the potion tonight."

Hermione made a very sour face, but did not raise the hundreds of objections she had voiced earlier. Harry knew she wanted to become an Animagus, but she could not stop being her overly cautious self. 

"Have we got all the ingredients then?" Ron whispered.

"Neville told me the owl-order came in this morning while I was in the hospital wing," Harry whispered.

Hermione made another face before saying "We shouldn't start until after Christmas at least, that potion needs days of constant attention and we've got exams coming up."

 "We already decided we'd watch it in turns," Harry said, "We can at least work out the schedule tonight."

"Alright but…"

"MR. POTTER!"

The three students jumped and Ron knocked a pitcher of pumpkin juice into Hermione's lap. McGonagall stood behind them with a glare that could have melted iron.

"I am I to understand that you are planning some other foolish stunt?  You're barely out the hospital an hour and you're back to scheming. What is it then? Polyjuice? Veritaserum? Forever-flame?" Professor McGonagall raged.

Without Snape sneaking around after them all the time they had grown lax. Harry wondered quickly how much their head of house had heard.       

 "And you two! Prefects! I should think you would have the sense to stop this!" McGonagall continued turning towards Hermione. Most of the hall was now watching them.

"It's not anything against the rules Professor." Harry answered, hoping desperately that Hermione could think of some horrible, complicated, legally assemble-able potion that 6th years had some business brewing. She did not let him down.

"It's only Concealing Solution Professor." Hermione said. "I checked the school rule book before we started."

"Miss Granger if you had indeed checked the school rules you would know that concealing objects is in direct violation of Hogwarts rules."

Hoping his leap of logic was correct Harry jumped in. "Well Professor, using the potion is against the rules, but it never says making it is."

McGonagall's glare was focused fully on him. "Potter, that is beneath you. You know the intention of the rule." 

He paused trying to sound diplomatic. "Professor we weren't trying to make trouble, we won't make any Concealing Solution then."

"No Potter, you will make it and you will turn it in to be graded when you have completed it."

"But…"

"I believe that potion takes thirteen days to brew. I suggest you get started." With that Professor McGonagall turned and walked up to the head table. Ron grabbed his hair as if intending to tear it out.

"We're doomed! Quidditch, exams, the potion and now another potion! I hate potions, and the D.A. meeting is tonight too," Ron moaned.

   "Well if an extra assignment is the worst thing that happens to you today you should consider yourself lucky," Hermione said quietly. Harry's still nail-less half formed fingers tapped sharply on the table, as if in agreement. 

*****

The sun was setting as the last few stragglers entered the room. Harry looked out the high windows one last time, trying to mentally prepare himself. There had to be at least a hundred and twenty people in the room, and it no longer looked as expansive as it had when he first entered.  Running Dumbledore's Army when it only had twenty five members was one thing, _but so many people, even with Hermione and Ron standing with him, he felt very alone at the front of the crowd. _

            "It's seven o'clock everyone, so let's get started," Harry announced in a commanding voice he did not know he could produce.

            The room was immediately silenced. Harry looked out over the group. Students from every house had come, even a few of the younger Slytherins. He could see most of the original group standing in a cluster near the front, though several members were missing. Some had graduated and Marietta Edgecombe, who had betrayed them all to the Ministry, would not be foolish enough to show her still hexed face in that room. Cho Chang had not come either. Hagrid, towering over the rest of the class, stood in the back. He had two tiny first years seated on his shoulders, so they could see over the heads of the older students. Harry realized one of them was the poor patchwork faced ugly kid who was sorted into Hufflepuff at the feast. The kid saw him looking and tried to duck behind Hagrid's expansive head. 

            "Since we are all obviously working at different levels we're going to split up into groups, according to ages. I want the first and second years up at the front of the room, please, in the center, third and fourth years over in the back corner at the right and everyone else in the back on the left, and could all the D.A. members from last year please come up here for a minute?" 

            The students split up and Harry walked over to the D.A. members. They all watched him intently.

            "I'm going to show the new 5th , 6th and 7th years the Protego counter curse, and I was wondering if those of you who already understand it could help them out. I didn't think this many people would show up."

            "Of course we'll help!" said Ernie Macmillan, before anyone else could answer. A few people looked annoyed, but they all spread out to help Harry instruct. Harry went about pairing up the first and second years, and showing them the basic disarming charm. He ducked away from them, as wands began flying in all directions. _Maybe I should make them wear goggles_, he thought as another wand bounced off the back of his head. _Someone could lose and eye. Hagrid was standing with the 3rd and 4th years looking rather nervous. Harry partnered him with Dennis Creevey who pelted the half giant enthusiastically but ineffectively with the impediment jinx Harry had just shown them. Harry wandered around the room for the next twenty minutes instructing and correcting. He walked to the front of the room, about to call a halt so they could change topics._

            A chill passed through him and he shuddered. _What was that expression, someone stepped on my grave?_ Everyone in the room was looking around warily as if they had felt it as well. Harry looked out the windows, but nothing appeared to be wrong on the grounds. With a shrug he called for everyone's attention. The younger students started on the leg lock jinx, the middle students on petrifying charm and the upper classes switched to stunning spells. Harry was standing by the door when it happened. 

            A 5th year Ravenclaw girl fired a stunning spell at her partner, and missed entirely. The red light flew across the room and struck tiny Dennis Creevey, blasting him into the air. The boy flew over Hagrid, just above the man's desperate attempt to catch him, and struck the window. Dumbledore had told Harry that the new wards around the castle would prevent the windows from being broken, or even opened with out a teacher's permission. Harry hoped the Headmaster had saved his receipts.  

Slamming through the glass barely slowed Dennis down. His flight came to an end only when he struck the north tower, thirty feet away. His robes caught on the edge of a broken old gargoyle, and he hung there, unconscious. The robes stretched out with a tearing sound.

            Hermione was the first to the window. She raised her wand.

            "Accio Dennis!" She cast a summoning charm, but nothing happened. Other students opened the windows and tried as well, to no avail.

            "The new wards!" shouted Hagrid, "Spells can't go between buildings!"

            Harry shouted at a few of the students, "Get Dumbledore!" and they rushed off like a flock of startled birds. He pointed to Ernie. "Run to the north tower and try to summon him from that side." 

            Harry thought of summoning his broom, but did not think it would make it there in time. Harry searched for more options, several old tapestries hung along the back wall of the room. He sprinted up to them, and like a cat, climbed up to the fastenings at the tops. With a flick of his wand they were cut free. He hit the ground running.

            "Help me tie them together. We'll make a rope!" he cried.

            "He's awake but he's slipping!" shouted Neville.

            Harry and a Hufflepuff girl he could not name tugged the fabric into lumpy knots. He was no expert, but he thought the string of tapestries would hold a person's weight. Harry handed the end of the makeshift rope to Hagrid, then climbed onto the windowsill.

            "Dennis, we're going to throw you a rope, try not to move too much!" Harry shouted.

            Colin Creevey, Dennis' older brother was running about in terrified circles before the window. Harry tossed the end toward Dennis, but the rope fell short and fluttered back against their own side of the castle.

            "We need a weight on the end!" Harry shouted.  As students scrambled about looking for a suitable weight Harry saw a pinpoint of orange light on the roof of the north tower. It flared and shrunk away. Neville was suddenly at his side looking up at the light as well. 

            "He'll fall, help him, please!" Neville shouted out the window. 

            Harry looked at him in confusion, then the orange light winked out. A shadowed figure slipped over the edge of the tower roof, climbing rapidly down toward Dennis. The glove from a suit of armor was thrust into Harry's hand and he tied it to the rope. Again he threw it to Dennis. It passed within an inch of the boy's hands, but he was too terrified to stretch further to reach it. The shadow was almost even with him by the time Harry pulled up the rope again and prepared to throw.      

             There was a resounding rip. Harry threw the rope, but Dennis's flailing arms missed it completely. Colin's despairing wail rang through the room as his brother fell. The shadowy figure leapt after him. Neville shouted incoherently. They passed through the light of a lower window as they fell and Harry saw Dennis and the other illuminated briefly. A faint shimmer reflected off the armored glove, then they disappeared from view.

            Harry stared down in horror. The sudden jerk on the rope of tapestries nearly knocked him off the windowsill. 

"Pull up!" Harry shouted and Hagrid began to reel the tapestries in. The ancient fabric frayed and tore. Whatever spells had been preserving it were no longer effective outside of the castle. The onlookers gasped in terror as the rope disintegrated even as they pulled it in. Suddenly Dennis appeared out the darkness. His eyes were huge and as Harry caught the boy's hands and pulled him inside he noticed the younger Creevey's torn robes were unpleasantly wet. His brother did not seem to mind, and refused to let Dennis move more than a few feet away, as if afraid he would fall out another window.      

The glove at the end of the rope bounced over the sill a moment later. Neville lunged forward as if he intended to dive out the window and would have fallen had Harry not caught the back of his robes.  Neville turned toward Dennis. 

"Where'd she go? Dennis, where did she go?" Neville said desperately.

"I don't know," the boy said shaking, "Somebody caught me around the middle and we hit the wall, and then the rope was in my hand, and I don't know."

The doors burst open then and Professor McGonagall strode into the room. Furious was an insufficient adjective.

******

            Ginny tiptoed down the hallway, keeping to the shadows. She was partnered with Neville to search the first floor for the mysterious interloper who had saved the life of Dennis Creevey. Ginny did not consider herself to be overly suspicious. Most of the time she knew she was far too trusting, but when Neville suddenly wanted to search by himself, "To cover more ground" Ginny decided it would be beneficial to keep an eye on him.

            Ten yards ahead of her, Neville ducked into an empty classroom, and closed the door behind him. After a few seconds of waiting, Ginny crept up to the door and peered in the key hole. The room was unlit, but she could see Neville's outline against the faint light of the windows.

            "I know you're in here," Neville said, sounding very aggravated.

            "You don't like hide and seek?" someone asked, and another shadowed figure dropped into view, landing next to Neville with unusual quiet.

            Ginny squinted, trying to figure out who the other person was: a girl definitely, but Ginny could not place her voice.

            "You're bleeding!" Neville said.

            "Yeah, that stupid little $#!% hit me right in the nose when I caught him, %^$&ing ungrateful that was. What are you doing here anyway?"

            "Dennis said you fell. Everyone's looking for you."

            "You told them it was me?" the girl demanded.

            "No. No. No. I didn't. They don't know who they're looking for. Why are you so mad? They'll probably give you some house points and an award, you saved his life."

            "Or I'll get %^$&ed. They'll gi'me detention and confiscate the last a' my smokes. I wouldn't even a' been on the roof if that stupid janitor and his stupid cat wasn't following me everywhere. That creepy old man's got half my store. They won't even let me go into that stupid Hog-$#!% town to buy more. I'm on my last pack!"

"Calm down Verdad!"

            Even before Neville said it, Ginny had figured out who the girl was. No one else in Hogwarts used that much foul muggle language.

"Right. Fine. So are you going to tell on me then?"

"No, but you should go to the hospital wing. Your nose could be broken."

"It's not. You're always going on about working at St. Mungo's hospital.  Just fix it for me."

"I'm not licensed."

"Do I look like I care? Give it a shot."

Ginny heard Neville mumble a spell and a faint blue light illuminated Verdad's face.

"Are you all right?" Neville asked.

There was a loud snorting noise. 

"Good as new."

They paused for a moment.

"When you jumped I thought I was going to throw up." Neville said.

"That's sweet of you." 

"You should probably go back to your common room, there are still a lot of people searching," said Neville.

"Sure. Thanks Neville."

"You're well...mmmf." 

Neville was cut off half way through his sentence, and the two shadows suddenly merged. A chair fell over. For a moment Ginny thought the Slytherin had attacked him, but then she heard Neville panting for air and the girl laughing, and realized she was watching something she really should not be.

"You have a ring in your tongue too?" Neville asked

 Horribly embarrassed, Ginny tiptoed as quickly as possible away from the door.

*****

            It took only a wave of her wand to repair the window, but then four hours to reactivate the safety wards through out the rest of the school.  McGonagall was making her way back to the teacher's lounge when she heard it. Hundreds of wings beating rapidly, as if a flock of birds were rapidly headed her way.  The cat in her tensed, but she kept her Animagus form at bay. It was so tempting to let go of the seventy five year old body that had trouble getting out of the bathtub and just be a cat for a few days. _But this is not the place and definitely not the time for those thoughts, she scolded herself. The fluttering sound entered the hallway with her and kept pace._

            "Any trouble with the windows?" asked the disembodied voice of Professor Graypond from the midst of the invisible flock.

            "No. The repairs were simple enough. It's the cause of the damage that concerns me."

            "It was asking for trouble having all the window wards linked up like that. One goes and they all go. Better we find the weak spots now."

            "But who got in or out while they were down?" McGonagall said.

            "I've a theory, and I think Dumbledore already knows. It'll come up at the meeting, no doubt."

            They did not speak again until everyone was settled in the lounge. Vector, Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Flitwick and McGonagall had arranged themselves in chairs, and Graypond was on the mantel of the fireplace. At least McGonagall thought she was. As usual Graypond had left her body in her defense classroom.

            "I trust everyone completed their tasks without incident?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked. After a round of affirmative responses he continued. "Professor Vector, any idea how the wards were disrupted in the first place?"

            Professor Vector nodded slowly. "Something altered the base of the wards." Hagrid raised his hand, as if he were in a class he did not understand, but Professor Vector anticipated his question. "To put it in layman's terms, the window wards are like tanks of water, of particular dimensions, with pipes connecting them. The magic in them would then be like the water in the pipes, and that magic is what gives the wards their strength. The culprit somehow managed to punch a hole in the connections between the windows, and as with water in a physical pipe, the magic drained out, so when that young man hit the window, neither the glass nor the ward was strong enough to keep him inside. It was really quite clever, and it did not set off the alarms, as breaking through one of the windows with brute magical force would have."

            "And you found where this 'leak' occurred?" asked McGonagall.

            "Yes, it was the north-facing window on the top floor of the north tower." Vector answered.

            "Any idea who dun it?" asked Hagrid. The half giant still looked very upset.

            "A few of the Ravenclaw seventh years, and perhaps Ms. Granger are capable of such a feat, but none of them would have a motive." Vector replied. 

            "What about the wraith I saw last month, could it a been that?" Hagrid persisted.

            "I should think not. A wraith could have smashed through the wards, but those creatures have no subtlety. If it had been a wraith we would have seen, heard, and felt it coming a mile away."

            "What about that Slytherin girl, Verdad?" Flitwick asked. "From the rumors I've heard she has next to no trouble escaping heavily warded ministry buildings. Wasn't she involved in the Azkaban break out?"

            "No link was ever proved, and her performance in Arithmancy class is not exactly brilliant." Vector said.

            The teachers proceeded to argue back and forth over who in the school was capable of damaging the wards and after twenty minutes of this Dumbledore dissolved the meeting. Pomfrey, the Headmaster and McGonagall left the lounge heading for the hospital wing.

            "Has there been any improvement in his condition Poppy?"

            The nurse gave a noncommittal half shrug. "He is capable of feeding himself and taking care of bathing and other personal needs, but as far as I can tell he can't understand what is being said to him or written words. He is completely incoherent and the frustration is showing. Other than that, he is in good health. I am at my wits' end, Sir. He needs to go to St. Mungo's. There is nothing more I can do."

            Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I will take that into consideration. Thank you Poppy."

            They entered the hospital wing quietly and went to the private wards at the back. After a brief knock, which received no answer, Dumbledore pushed the door open. Snape stood there, dressed in his usual black robes, and his customary sneer in place, but there were signs something was obviously amiss. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion and red-rimmed. His nose, chin and fingers were smudged with ink, and apparently he did not notice.

            "Hello, Severus." Professor Dumbledore said slowly.

            "Wersa a jake or keslley aseis lad…." Snape shook his head violently as if trying to clear it, and tried again. "Seven alse sek adro." He ran a hand through his greasy hair, smearing ink across his forehead. Apparently defeated he sank to a stool at the small desk in the room. Crumpled papers littered the floor and McGonagall picked up one and unrolled it curiously. A collection of squiggling random lines covered the page. The only intelligible marking was the word "point" and that was no help without context. Snape regained their attention by picking up a sheet of parchment that he had yet to destroy. Instead of attempting to write, the professor had draw crude pictures. 

            Dumbledore took the paper carefully, holding it so they could all see. A stick figure man stood in the center of a group of wiggly half circles, and there was a stick figure animal, possibly a dog, in the circle as well. McGonagall shook her head, not understanding. Snape lurched to his feet. He pointed at the half circle and another babbling triad poured from his mouth. McGonagall could only stare in confusion. He reached toward her and tugged on the edge of her cloak. With more then a few misgivings she took it off and handed it to him. Snape put it on, leaving the hood pulled forward so his face was entirely hidden. He then proceeded to walk around the room with strange slow steps.

            "Any ideas what this is all about?" McGonagall asked. She was never good at charades. 

            "Dementors?" asked Pomfrey.

            Snape whirled toward her. He started babbling and the cloak fell to the floor forgotten. Snape pointed at the picture again. 

"Those are dementors?" asked McGonagall. Snape tapped the page again, pointing at the stick figure man, and then the dog, then he snatched up a quill and began to scratch out the dementors from the picture then added wavy lines in the air and then another stick figure.

Dumbledore tapped the new stick figure. "Can you give us more details Severus?"

In reply Snape let out a string of nonsense words that were most likely meant to be extremely foul cursing. When Dumbledore continued to stare Snape dipped the quill back in the ink and added some facetiously over exaggerated curves to the stick drawing. He then proceeded to stab the stick figure representing himself in the head with the quill until he tore the parchment in half. 

"SHE aslk jdsee als od ale a seiewown feoit n neowr, bitck!"

They continued to stare at him until he sank to the stool with a frustrated sigh.

"Before we send him to St. Mungo's I will try Legilemency, but with a mind as guarded as his, it is unlikely to work. Please prepare the paperwork, Poppy." 

The matron nodded and quickly left. Dumbledore then turned a quirked eyebrow toward McGonagall who took the cue to leave. As she walked out the doors of the hospital wing she heard Snape's unintelligible shouting.                

*****

            His feet were very tired, but he knew it would be hours at least before he could sit down. His nose was running as well, but he didn't dare take off his mask to tend to it. The Dark Lord would happily accept any small infraction in the Death Eater dress code as an invitation to torture. But Peter would not give him any cause today. No, this day he would finely earn some of the training he had been promised. After weeks of crawling and skulking about in the rubbish of Diagon Alley, as a rat and other wise, he had learned the location of an Order safe-house. 

            He had scouted the area around the building, and found nothing but forest and farmland. The old farmhouse was well warded and concealed but nothing a few careful hexes could not defeat. And the building was only fifty miles from Hogsmead, a perfect staging area for an attack If he could successfully capture it, or at least be integral in the capturing of it, (as he doubted he would be given a command of any size shape or form) he could get himself back in the Dark Lord's favor. 

            Peter shifted from one foot to the other as five more Death Eaters stepped forward to speak and were punished or rewarded accordingly. Then the master's eyes were on him. He lowered his head and stepped forward.

            "Master I have found another of Dumbledore's hidden houses. Members of his order frequently visit the residence…"

****

            "Ouch!" 

            Ron Weasley pushed aside the curtains of his bed and peered out, wand in hand. He recognized shadowy figure of Harry sitting on the floor by the door. Ron hopped across the cold stone floor to his friend, whose hands were pressed to his face. "Was it a vision? What did you see Harry?" Ron whispered.

            "No, I didn't see anything. I bumped my head on the stupid wall. I think I was sleep walking again."

            Ron let out a nervous and relieved laugh and pulled the other boy to his feet. Harry punched him in the arm, declared that it was not funny, and went back to bed.         


	14. The unlocked back door

Disclaimer: I make no money. JKR owns all the characters you recognize.

Author's note: Thanks reviewers.

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 14**

**The Unlocked Backdoor**

            "There's a metal plate in your head?" Chapman stopped stirring the tea he had been given. 

            McFeldy nodded and rapped on the side of his skull with a spoon, creating a dull clanking noise. "Sure, sure," the man said. He continued to tap with the spoon and seemed to forget he was doing it. "The mates and me was at the Nottingham and Kent match in '88. Ref was blind and the whole stadium went ta' hell. Anyway, me and the mates, we was showin' tha ref a thing or two, turnin' over his car, only I was standing on the wrong side of it, ya see and we were all drunk as all hell, so they didn't notice I was on the wrong side, when they lifted and then it tipped." The man's eyes went to the spoon tapping against his skull, as if suddenly noticing it, but he did not stop tapping. 

"Oo' er you again?" McFeldy asked.

            Chapman gritted his teeth and looked around the run-down apartment again.  There was an overflowing trash bin in the corner, filled with beer bottles and take-out containers. Old football magazines covered the kitchen table at which he now sat, contemplating the point of this interview.

 He had spoken with sixty-four people in last five days, who may or may not have links to the Harrington incident. Each possible witness was progressively less helpful then the last. People from the next town down the road, creatively named Nextham, could recall nothing of the night in question, besides the fact that an unusual number of people were playing their radios at an excessive volume. Relatives of residence were even less forthcoming. They seemed unwilling to admit that they had any family at all, and would not touch the topic of Harrington with a ten-foot pole. If this rather addled man was going to "break the case" Chapman would eat his own hat. At least he had not come across any dementors yet. For the hundredth time he wondered why he'd been assigned detective work. _I suppose it's a lack of manpower_ he thought, repeating his cover story for the sixty-sixth time.

            "I'm a private detective working for Mrs. Emily Hollister. She's trying to find her daughter, a former resident of Harrington." Chapman said slowly, trying very hard to keep the man on topic.

            The man froze mid-tap. "Harrington did you say?"

            Chapman nodded.

            "I seem to recall being there once. The whole place stank of fish. Too quiet. I was visiting my aunt. Not even a stadium. All they 'ave is a little park in the center a town and two bars. Never was much of a place to be."

            "Have you seen your aunt lately Mr. McFeldy?" Chapman asked.

            "Not since she was buried last year," the man said, looking at the clock. 

            Chapman rose from his seat. "Thank you for your time Mr. McFeldy," he said, holding out his hand in farewell.

            McFeldy did not take it. Instead his eyes went out of focus.

            "Never been in a Blackout?" McFeldy asked.

            "Do you mean when the electricity goes out?"

McFeldy shook his head.

            "Ever met the devil? He don't look like nothing at all but you know he's there just the same. Cold hands grabbing at you." McFeldy's eyes drifted even more out of focus and he did not answer as Chapman called his name. Maybe this muggle had been around dementors recently. It would surly explain some of his odd behavior. Chapman found himself leaning forward a bit as the man spoke. 

"The devil, he'll be back though, here or there, always about…" the man continued in an almost inaudible mutter. "Course we wouldn't a known if it weren't for her."

"Who?" asked Chapman, as he leaned in front of McFeldy, trying to recapture his attention.

"Her." McFeldy said, tilting his chin at the wall in front of him. Chapman started to turn. A wet rag clamped down over his mouth and nose. The sudden application of cold liquid to his mouth caused him to gasp, and immediately his head was spinning. Another arm snaked around his neck, pulling him back against an unyielding chest. He could barely feel his captor breathe through the thick vest they wore. He tried to yell but the rag muffled all sound. The room was spinning. Chapman pulled out his wand, but McFeldy leaned forward and tugged it effortlessly from his hand. The room disappeared in a final swirl of color.

"Didn't seem such a bad bloke, that one," said the man, who had a few minutes earlier professed to be Mark McFeldy.

"If he cooperates, we won't be too hard on him," the woman said, as she lowered the unconscious man onto the rug, and carefully began to roll it up.

The man, formerly known as McFeldy, walked across the room and opened the window to let the stench of chloroform out. "You took forever getting 'ere," he said to the woman.

"I took eight minutes, Hooligan, and that's in heavy traffic," she answered.

"Still seemed like forever. We don't have to take this guy on the motorcycles do we, Lim?" Hooligan asked as he lifted his end of the rug and she lifted hers.

"No, I've got my car back from decontamination. We're going with dignity today."

"Think there's time to stop off for a quick pint? This is working on my nerves," he grunted as they crawled down the fire escape and into the alley.

"I'll buy a couple a rounds tonight at The Goal," Lim said, opening the trunk of the car.           

After a quick look around, they unrolled the rug and dumped in the unconscious man.

"You're a real princess, you know that, Lim?" Hooligan said with a chip-toothed smile.

"Course I do," she said, slamming the trunk closed.  

***** 

            They sat in a circle on the floor of the sixth-year boy's dormitory. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville had notebooks and quills in each of their laps, and they watched Harry intently as he flipped through the book to the page they had stopped on last time. In the corner of Ron's wardrobe, the Verto potion bubbled softly over a magical fire, which, thanks to Hermione, did not incinerate Ron's clothing. The potion needed only one more ingredient and five more days of cooking, which meant the Gryffindors had only five more days to understand the potion they were planning to ingest. Harry found his place in the book and began to read.

            "Within forty-seven seconds of consumption of the Verto potion, the skin of the attempter will noticeably alter, indicating absorption of the potion into all the body's cells. The attempter may feel lightheaded and develop a fever, but symptoms should pass within twelve hours. Should symptoms persist, a healer should be consulted. A sample of the potion should be reserved, in case an abnormality arises," Harry said, and stopped for a moment to turn the page.

            "Chapter Five, The Form. The Animagus form one can assume is not the result of conscious choice, but rather the form most natural to the unconscious mind. Some persons or beings who attempt the transformation will be unable to alter their physical form, because their psyche cannot maintain coherency and function outside of their familiar natural state. For this reason it is advisable for the attempter to be prohibited the use of a mirror for his entire life up to the point of transformation, to avoid the imprinting of permanent physical characteristics on the mind." Harry paused for a moment. "Would you mind translating that, Hermione?"

            She nodded thoughtfully and set down her quill. "It simply means that some people won't be able to change because they are too used to being human."

            "What about that other stuff about being psychic and unconscious?" asked Ron.

            "It means you pick your Animagus form, but you aren't aware you're doing it," answered Ginny, giving Ron a slightly contemptuous look.

            Ron started to get red in the face, so Harry decided to head off an argument by continuing to read. Chapter Five went on to explain the mental disorders that caused partial transformations, and the disastrous results of trying to change the Animagus form your unconscious mind had settled on. There was a footnote in the chapter about a researcher who believed lycanthropy was the result of a misguided experiment to alter the Animagus transformation, thousands of years before writing was invented, and Hermione made Harry reread the footnote to her six times before they were allowed to move to the next chapter. It was nearly midnight when they heard Seamus and Dean coming up the stairs, forcing them to clear out, but they had gone over three more chapters by then. Neville hurried to uncover the magical portrait that Harry was convinced was spying on them.  Harry smiled at their progress as he and Ron sealed up Ron's wardrobe.           

            Life did not slow down in the least for Harry as the potion neared readiness. He was swamped with homework. He had looked at his schedule for the next five days and nearly passed out. Day five of the count down began with Harry still awake finishing a transfiguration essay and ended with him passed out on his charms homework. Day four was even more hectic, as Ron insisted the Quidditch team cram in another practice session before the big Hufflepuff game the next day. The practice ended after three hours, when Ginny threatened to hang Ron naked from the center scoring ring if he told them to fly a particular play again. Harry decided the pressure of these two days must have been more then his brain could handle. It was the only explanation he could come up with for the strange dream he had.

            Aunt Marge had come to Hogwarts to replace professor Snape as potions teacher, only in Harry's dream she was as he had last seen her, at the beginning of third year, bloated near bursting and floating around the potions class room like a terrifying balloon. Her bulldog, Ripper, was running about under the desks trying to bite Harry's legs and he was forced to kneel on top of his desk to avoid the animal. He was rather relieved when Hermione blasted him with a jet of water and told him to wake up and get off the common room table.

            "Three days!" said Ron excitedly as he sat down to breakfast. Hermione and Harry just nodded. Harry kept nervously looking under the table, half expecting a psychotic bulldog to pop out of nowhere and try to take off his foot. He half choked on his oatmeal as an owl dropped the morning issue of the Daily Prophet on top of his head. The roll of paper bounced off his skull and landed in a platter of eggs. Without really looking up Hermione snatched the paper and slid it between herself and her food, reading intently. 

            "An entire muggle town's gone missing," Hermione said, still not looking up. "There's evidence that dementors were responsible. According to the paper a wizard named Chapman may have been involved. It happened over a week ago."

            The rest of the group had gone silent. "It happened a week ago and they're only reporting it now?" Ron asked. "Bet Fudge was trying to cover that up as well. He never did care much for muggles."

            "Does it say how many die…" Harry cut himself off, "Did it say how many were lost?"

            "The population of the town was nearly a thousand, only a few have been found," Hermione reported quietly.

            Harry dropped his spoon. "We should be doing something!" he said as he glowered down at his breakfast. "If I didn't have this stuff on my head I might have known, might have been able to warn them," Harry said, picking at the drying red goop over his scar.

            "If you didn't have that stuff on your head, You-Know-Who could possess you," Hermione said. "It's a shame you never finished your Occlumency lessons."

            "Can't you recommend a book or something I could read instead? Dumbledore hasn't mentioned teaching it to me again, but I think I might have better luck learning it on my own."

            "I did look for books about it when you first started taking lessons, but they must all be in the restricted section, because I've looked everywhere else."

            "I could get Hagrid to sign a permission slip after the game today," Harry said thoughtfully, as if he did not have enough to do already.

            "The Game!" shouted Ron, leaping to his feet. "We should be in the locker room by now. Get going, Harry! Find Natalie and Katie, I'll look for Milton, Normandy, and Ginny. Where could they be? We only have three hours until the game starts!"

            Ron rushed off in a near-panic. Harry laughed a little and started for the Quidditch locker rooms. 

            "Natalie where are you?! Ginny tuck in, you're half way to the green houses!" Ron bellowed. His face was almost as red as his Quidditch robes and Harry was slightly worried he'd pass out for lack of air. "Katie! Look left!" Ron's voice echoed through the stadium, nearly drowning out the new announcer Elizabeth Williams, the Hufflepuff third year who had taken over Lee Jordan's job.

            Hufflepuff was putting up a good fight, but Harry was sure Gryffindor would win. The score was seventy to twenty, Gryffindor led, and the Hufflepuff seeker looked very confused. Harry turned suddenly, catching a flash of gold in the corner of his eye, but it was only a dead leaf blowing through the pitch. Harry tightened his grip on his Firebolt and rose higher above the field. The people in bleachers shrunk to ants. Harry searched intently for the snitch but it failed to show itself.

            His attention was drawn to the lake and the mountains beyond. Hundreds of feet in the air Harry could almost forget the people below him. Dumbledore was down in the stadium. _Taking a break from saving the world I guess_, Harry thought, and the thought made his stomach hurt. He was tempted then to just turn towards the lake and fly, as fast as his broom could carry him. Away from wizards and the Ministry, maybe out of England even. But that thought faded and visions of escape left his head as reality intruded. His broom would fail if he tried to pass the wards, and thanks to his sleepwalking he was not allowed to go even as far as the lake shore. He did not know what kind of safety measure would be activated, but he was certain it would be embarrassing.   

            With a sigh, he angled his broom down in a steep dive. He hadn't seen the Snitch but he thought he ought to put the new Hufflepuff seeker through the paces anyway. The new kid didn't follow him even halfway to the ground before losing his nerve. Harry sighed again and pulled up, his boots scraping up the turf as he leveled out. He did a few high-speed turns over the spectators, intending to flush the Snitch. A Slytherin fourth-year threw a firecracker at him, and another nearly unseated him with a butterbeer bottle, but eventually the tiny golden Snitch came out of hiding. 

            It darted out from behind Professor Sprout's head and zipped towards the Gryffindor goalposts. Harry zeroed in. The Snitch went low, trying to lose him in the slightly overgrown grass, but Harry was not fooled. His hand was nearly on it when it made a sudden sharp turn. Harry whirled to follow and nearly crashed into a post. He threw himself to the right just in time. The Snitch circled dizzily around the center post, gaining height with every revolution. Harry darted in. The Hufflepuff seeker was closing too, but Harry knew who was faster. He shot upwards parallel to the post and his hand closed over the Snitch. The Gryffindors roared happily as Harry slowed to a stop over the goalposts. Harry smiled faintly as his teammates flew over to join him for the victory lap, but he could not shake the feeling that the victory was, in the end, meaningless.     

******

            His arms shook as he pulled himself up to the next beam. His shoes slipped as he tried to wrap his legs around the wood. He knew he'd scuffed them up._ Gran's going to kill me when I come home for Christmas_, he thought. Neville's legs shook as he pulled himself up on top of the beam and got to his feet. _Why does she always sit at the top?_ he mentally moaned as he pulled himself up again. He'd been climbing about under the Slytherin bleachers for twenty minutes, but was only half way there.

             _She's not being fair_, he thought for the hundredth time. _It's not as if I told her she couldn't tell anyone I'm her boyfriend_. He tried to clear his head again. Verdad said she liked him. She said she'd never felt the same way about anyone else. She'd said she was his girlfriend. She'd said if he told anyone she would kill him. It was all very confusing.

            It was also the reason he was climbing under the bleachers, rather then just talking to her when he saw her in the halls between classes. She usually tracked him down in the library, but he had to talk to her, in case something happened. It wasn't as if he didn't trust Hermione to make the potion properly, but if something did happen…

            He'd left a letter to his grandmother in his trunk, but he had to talk to Verdad in person.

            After another twenty minutes he was there. He walked hunched over along the beam, his hands on the bottom of the seat over head to keep balance. Finally he found her ankles. She was sitting with some fifth year girls, discussing muggle tattoos.

            "…and then it drives the needle into the skin and injects the ink" finished Verdad. She sounded as if she'd been laughing.

            "And muggles pay people to do that?" asked a one of the girls.

            "Hundreds of pounds. You got ta' understand that for muggles, tattoos are permanent, so you don't want the guy doing your ink to %#@& up. For quality, you got ta' pay." Verdad said.

            "And I suppose you have one of those muggle tattoos to show off as well?" asked another girl, sounding less then impressed.

            "Course not. Those things are wicked painful. It's like being flayed. I could recommend an expert though, if you ever get the urge to decorate."

            Neville carefully reached up and snapped the elastic band on her sock. Her leg jerked for a second, but she didn't look down or mention it to her friends. Neville sat down on the beam and waited. He heard the Slytherins hiss as Harry caught the Snitch and won the game.

            He heard Verdad's friends get up and leave and he heard her say she'd catch up later. A few minutes later she squeezed through the footspace and landed lightly on the beam beside him. He had planned to speak to her quickly and then get back to the castle to finish his herbology project, but half an hour passed before they got around to talking.

            "Did you want to say something?" Verdad asked.

            "Hu?" It took Neville several seconds to remember why he'd come. "Oh yeah. I was going to say goodbye in case I die on Monday."  

            "Taken up a death sport?" she asked, as she straightened her robes.

            "No. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but if I die I just wanted to say that I think you're the most beautiful girl in the entire universe and that I'll miss you. If I die. Or if I turn into some sort of headless puss-oozing slug or something, I suppose its about the same thing, really. I left you Trevor, in my will."

            "Your toad?"

            He nodded.

            "Cute."

            "I'm serious. I could die."

            "I didn't say I didn'' believe you."

            She was smiling as she said it, though.

******

"Are you sure you don't want to eat something? You look terrible."

            "I'd just throw it up."

            "Jolly today, aren't you?"

            Remus snorted and went back to his book. Tonks stomped across the living room and flopped down on the sagging sofa. She paged through _Witch Weekly for a few minutes then stood up and stomped around the room again, to the window. She pulled aside the curtain and sinister orange light filled the room._

            "About how long?" she asked.

            "Moonrise isn't for another hour. If you're that worried I'll lock myself up early."

            "I'm not worried, I'm just anxious is all. Are you sure you can't get the potion somewhere else?"

            "Tonks, if I could get it from anyone other than Severus Snape I most definitely would, but I can't and even if I suddenly remembered someone else who could make the potion, it's too late for it to be effective. I need to take it for the entire week beforehand." 

            "I know, I know," she said, her hair changing color between words. "Have they figured out what's wrong with Snape yet?"

            "They think it may have been some kind of as-yet unknown potion, but there was no trace of anything in the tests. Poppy thinks he's getting better. He seems to have regained the use of the word 'no', and he's stopped twitching as well, so that's a good sign."

            There was a long empty pause in the conversation. Remus sighed and stood up.

            "I'm going to double check the reinforcement charms on the door," he announced and walked down the stairs.

            Tonks flopped back on the sofa.  There was an electric quality to the air. That was the only way she could describe it. Her father had taken her to a muggle science museum once, before she had gotten into Hogwarts. The thing she remembered most about the trip was the exhibit on electricity. There was a big glass bubble with lightning trapped inside, and when you touched it your hair stood on end. She smoothed down her hair to check.

            Remus rattled about in the basement. She wanted to go down there and keep him company, but she knew he'd just get annoyed. Despite her Auror training, she had never really gotten the hang of waiting. Guard duty just did not suit her.  Kingsley was much better at this sort of thing, but he was attending a meeting with the head of the Auror division, and he couldn't just tell them, 'sorry I've got a secret society to guard and a werewolf to baby-sit.'

            The next hour crawled by and Tonks went downstairs. Remus was already waiting in the basement. His clothes were folded up neatly outside the door, and his wand rested on top of them. Tonks checked over the spells once more. They were all working properly.

            "Everything alright in there?" she asked loudly.

            "Yes." Remus answered quietly. "You should probably cast the silencing charm now."

            "I will, but are you sure…"

            She was cut off half way by a groan, and a dull thump.

            "Tonks…silence…" he hissed.

            She did not want to hear him, but she felt guiltier about leaving him alone. She worried also about him leaving her alone. _Just me and a werewolf, nice and stuck here for twelve hours.  _She considered just leaving the basement un-charmed. Walking around in big empty house in complete silence was sure to drive her insane._ Maybe a bit of barking wouldn't be so bad…But that thought was dashed into oblivion by the screams. Her hand had half-turned the knob before she caught herself.  Remus' screams took on a strange choked quality, and she thought he may have been trying to keep his mouth shut. _He doesn't want anyone to hear that._ A low growl and a snarl rattled the door, and Tonks decided she was better off in silence._

            It was 2am and the card house was nearly five feet tall. The process had begun at about11:30 pm, when Tonks had startled herself awake for the fifth time, by falling out of her chair. She had been reading, but it was only a few easy steps from reading a book to falling asleep on top of it. She thought a card game would be a little more active, but discovered solitaire was not stimulating enough by half.  She rolled the carpet up in the corner to make sure she had a flat surface. Tonks had initially planned a scale model of Hogwarts School, but gave that up for a giant pyramid when she realized how hard turrets were to assemble. She held her breath as she added another two cards. If she had not, she may not have heard them.

            It was just a tiny clicking sound. It could have been one of the clocks, or just some beam in the house resettling itself, but to Tonks it was cannon blast. The alarms had not sounded, but she was certain that a door had just come unlocked. She walked slowly around the card house, snuffing the lamp as she went. The door to the parlor was already open, so she did not have to worry about the hinges creaking as she entered the dark hall. With a moment of concentration she altered her eyes. The house went from pitch black to a grayish haze. The knob reflected the faintest bit of light as it turned slowly. The door opened without a sound.

            It was obvious that they had cast silencing charms. The hinges made no noise and their boots were equally soundless as they entered the house. They slinked off into the kitchen and up the stairs, not risking lights. One walked straight at her, but she slipped behind the parlor door before he got close. He passed her without noticing, entering the parlor, and another went down the hall, inspecting the loo and a broom closet before disappearing into the living room. Tonks heard a grunt of surprise and the soft slap of the cards on the hardwood floor as her house tumbled down.  

Tonks thought quickly_. Didn't leave any important parchment lying around, no magical objects, no Phoenix feathers. All I've got to worry about now is eight Death Eaters, and Remus. How the bloody hell do I evacuate a werewolf? _

The plan formed so fast she amazed even herself. All that time studying most-wanted portraits was not wasted after all. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she concentrated. A moment later she was ready. She'd even produced a fairly good likeness of that ugly tattoo. Tonks walked into the kitchen.

A Death Eater was inspecting the pantry door. He turned his white masked face towards her as she entered the room.

"You are supposed to be searching upstairs," she said in Lucius Malfoy's cool quiet voice.

The Death Eater did not move.

"Are you stupid or deaf? Don't make me repeat myself." Tonks said, with all the threat she could muster.

"I am neither actually," the Death Eater answered in an equally cool manner.

_$#1% _was all Tonks had time to think before the real Lucius Malfoy fired a curse at her. Fortunately for Tonks, half of dodging involves falling down, and in falling down she had a talent unmatched. The curse shattered a cabinet and bits of china rained down on her as she rolled across the floor and shouted. "Stupefy!"

Malfoy deflected it and another Death Eater rushed into the room, and another a second later. Tonks had no other plan. She decided to give instinct a try. She fired a blasting hex into the ceiling and charged toward the Death Eaters as they dodged falling bits of rubble. An impediment charm cleared most of her path, and she was three steps from the basement door when an Expelliarmus hit her in the back. Her wand slipped from her fingers and she tumbled head first against a cabinet. She rolled over and looked at them, her face slipping back into its natural state. The Death Eaters were all filing into the kitchen now, nine of them, cutting off the back door and the hallway. Tonks was cornered.

"No one left to help you now little girl," said one of them. He lit the end of his wand, illuminating the group.

Tonks filled her mouth with shark's teeth and smiled at him. He drew back a bit but another stepped forward. 

"What's behind the door?" asked Malfoy.

Tonks shrugged. She reached up behind her back, grabbing the knob.

"As last I recall it was the basement." Tonks said, trying not to sound scared.

"Kill her," said Malfoy. 

Tonks turned the knob and lunged backwards. She missed her footing and tumbled down the basement steps, crashing into a shelf at the bottom.  Jars of beans and jam crashed around her, cascading across the floor. The Death Eaters walked down the stairs after her.

"Nowhere else to run, little girl."

"Oh I'm right were I want to be," she said, to the four men now standing at the base of the steps. She whistled sharply. "Come on out sweetie, supper's on!"

The Death Eaters looked around in confusion for a moment, until the shadow detached itself from a pile of boxes to their left.  A low growl filled the room, and even though it made the hair on Tonk's neck stand up she continued to talk in a cheerful voice. "Meet Remus Lupin. I hope being eaten doesn't give you a bad first impression. He'd be upset if he thought you didn't like him." 

A Death Eater tried to run back up the stairs but he was knocked back as a huge, gray wolf crashed down on his chest. Tonks saw his arms come up to push the werewolf off, but there was a loud wet crunch. His arms spasmed for a moment, then dropped to the floor with a loud thud. The Death Eater's companions disapparated before the wolf could turn around. Red and green lights rained into the tiny space from the men upstairs, but the werewolf was un-fazed. It darted up the steps into the kitchen, and there were screaming and crashes, and popping sounds as the Death Eaters retreated.

Tonks climbed to her feet. She grabbed the shelf for support and her hand came down on broken glass. She hissed back a curse. Another jar fell, splattering the dead man with Mrs. Weasley's homemade tomato sauce. Tonks stumbled a bit, and realized the kitchen had gone silent. She looked up towards the door, and saw two glowing eyes. 

"Hey Remus," she said slowly. She retreated further into the basement, scrambling over the remains of a spice rack. The werewolf stepped onto the staircase. Its muzzle was soaked in blood and its teeth were bared. Her eyes were drawn to red, stringy bit of meat stuck between the creature's front teeth. It paced her as she backed away.

"I don't suppose you remember me?" she asked.

The werewolf growled and its rear legs bunched. Tonks slipped on the spilled beans and fell backwards. The wolf lunged. 

*****

            His alarm had failed to go off.  He usually did not need it. For the past eight years he had awakened at six-fifteen am exactly, so often he just woke up on his own. Kingsley mentally kicked himself as he tugged on his boots. It was nearly noon.

            He blamed the head of the Auror division, Gregory Itelham. The man kept them in a high security meeting for five hours the night before, droning on unceasingly about new security regulations the Ministry was going to implement. Kingsley had found the man's speech entertaining at first, as Itelham could barely send a secure interdepartmental memo, but the humor disappeared rapidly after about twenty minutes.

            As Kingsley filled the pockets of his robe, he wondered why Tonks had not fire-called him when he failed to show up on time. She was hopelessly clumsy but not forgetful. _She probably fell asleep at her desk again_, he thought, recalling she had been on guard duty with Remus the entire night.   _I'll check on her as soon as I sign in, he decided. He raised his wand and disapparated._

*****

            The fire had burned down, nearly to embers when the call came. The sudden burst of light in the room startled the Headmaster from the slight stupor that had over taken him. Kingsley Shacklebolt's face appeared out of the flames, his usual calm replaced with anxiety. He said the words Dumbledore had feared all morning, ever since Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks missed check in.

            "Den three has been lost."

            "Survivors?"

            "There's nothing but rubble. We're still digging."

            Before Dumbledore could ask for more information an owl fluttered in the window. It dropped an envelope on his desk and flew right back out without pause. He inspected the wax seal on the flap.

**_            Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, Werewolf Division.  _**

            Slowly, he peeled it open.

*****

            "Drop it!" Ron ordered. 

            Harry jumped and the book slid out of his lap, landing with a loud thump on the rug. Harry had been reading the Animagus book most of the afternoon, as the storm raging outside prevented any Quidditch practice. Ron walked around the chair and picked it up, inspecting the book's current cover. The taller boy quickly scanned the Gryffindor common room for observers before commenting.

            "We've been studying and working all week. If you keep this up you'll turn into Hermione." Ron continued.

            "We're taking the potion tomorrow. I just have to make sure we haven't missed anything." Harry said taking the book back.    

            "Check later, we're going to miss the feast." Ron said.

            "Feast?" Harry looked up at the clock on the mantle. It was nearly seven.

            "The Halloween feast? October 31st?" Ron ran his hands through his hair as if he were about to tear it out in frustration. "You look at your schedule every five minutes, how could you forget it's Halloween?" 

            Harry shrugged. "I'll just go put this away then," Harry said. "Is Hermione coming?"

            "Of course she is." Ron said. He went to the stairs leading up to the girl's dormitory and shouted at the top of his lungs, "HERMIONE GET DOWN HERE! WE'RE GOING TO THE FEAST!"

            Harry ran up to his room, tossed the book on his bed, and was back down in time to see the opening argument of that hour's Ron and Hermione fight.

            "…is all I'm trying to say." Hermione finished.

            "It didn't sound like it. It sounded more like you were calling me stupid!" Ron replied. His face was so red it was nearly glowing.

            "Weren't we going to a feast?" Harry asked, sweeping past them and out the portrait. 

They caught up with him on the stairs. The three Gryffindors managed to speak civilly all the way to the entrance hall. They were passing through the doors of the Great Hall when something caught Harry's attention. The doors of the school hung open. Thinking it was a little odd, Harry turned around to investigate. As he reached the threshold a bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds.  Two tall cloaked figures were sprinting up the stairs towards the school, a magical stretcher floating beside them. Its occupant was concealed by a cloth. "Get Dumbledore!" Harry shouted.

He heard Ron's voice echoing through the halls. He drew his wand. The cloaked men came through the curtain of rain into the archway over the door. Harry saw their faces and sighed with relief. Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled back his hood and gave Harry a short nod. The other man kept his hood up, but Harry recognized him as one of the men who had helped drag Professor Snape back to the school. The relief evaporated as he looked more carefully at the form on the stretcher. Despite the cloth obscuring her face Harry could tell it was a woman. 

"Tonks?" Harry asked, surprised to hear his voice cracking.

Kingsley only nodded again. 

Dumbledore swept up to them at that moment, and after giving each of the men a long look he waved them inside. They took off towards the hospital wing, and Dumbledore did not object when Harry followed or when Ron and Hermione fell in behind him. Madam Pomfrey was the only one who gave them trouble.

"Go back to the feast, you've got no business here," she ordered.

"I could fall down a staircase and come back," Harry offered. The hospital matron gave him a scathing look, but then ignored him as the extent of Tonks' injuries was exposed.

Her face was covered in bruises, and there was a particularly nasty one at her hairline that had a cut through it as well. Her nose was swollen, purple, and smashed looking and she had another large bruise on her chin. Ponfrey lifted Tonks' hand and muttered a spell. The hand was covered in blood and as the magic took effect bits of glass floated free of the skin, settling in a bedpan on the floor. 

"Granger, make yourself useful. Get me the anti-swelling salve out of the cabinet in my office, and for goodness sakes don't shake it. Potter, bring one of the privacy curtains over. Weasley, fetch me three cups of immobilizing potion from the storeroom."  The three students ran off to their appointed tasks. Kingsley, Dumbledore and the stranger began to talk in low voices.  

After a half hour of work Tonks groaned and Madam Pomfrey stepped back, apparently satisfied. Harry, Hermione and Ron were shooed outside then, but no one was in the hallway, so they all pressed their ears back to the door. Harry peered in through the keyhole.

"Wasss go'in on?" asked Tonks in a slurred voice.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice.

Tonks sat bolt upright. "Remus!"

_What about him,_ Harry thought. His stomach began to churn. He knew something must have happened, he was more sure of that than of his own name.

"The Death Eaters, they found the house," Tonks said.  "I had to let him out, or they would have…have killed him. I was…I fell down the stairs. He was coming and I threw a box of pepper in his face, blinded him for a minute. I got up the stairs but the Death Eaters…there was a booby trap and …I think the roof caved in. What time is it? Have they found Remus yet?" 

"He was not in the ruins of the house." Dumbledore said slowly. 

"The rest of the Order is out searching for him then?" Tonks was wearing a heart-shaped face with short black hair. Harry thought he could see the resemblance between her and Sirius as she grew angry. Dumbledore bowed his head a bit.

"Nymphadora, you must be prepared. Though I have not given up hope, I have received word from a contact in the Ministry, that the Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures was forced to kill a werewolf last night a few miles south of Hogsmeade. We are attempting to get an Order member in to see the body, but the description we have…"

Dumbledore paused for a moment as Tonks let out a strangled sob. "I must also ask you not to tell Harry. Not until we know everything. I fear he may attempt something foolish…"

Harry stepped back from the door. He tripped over Hermione and fell on the floor, but hardly felt the impact.  He heard footsteps coming to the hospital door, and without thinking he turned and ran. He was not entirely aware that he was leaving the castle, but he felt the rain as he sprinted down the front steps of the school. He was nearly to the bottom when he slipped, slamming his right knee painfully into the stone and rolling to a stop in an oceanic puddle on the ground. He got to his feet, muddy and shaking, and hurried down the path towards Hogsmeade.  As he neared the front gates of the school,l the air changed.

It felt as if he were trying to move through huge drifts of snow. _It must be the sleepwalking safety net they put up_, he thought, still fighting to move forward. He struggled on, as he reached the threshold of the gates it felt as if he was trying to walk into a sand dune, but as his foot passed through the gate the heavy feeling disappeared. He had one moment of elated success before he was yanked off his feet by the back of his robes, and dragged backward, through the mud, at a high rate of speed. He came to a halt at the base of the castle steps, slumped miserably in a puddle. Dumbledore stood on the bottom step waiting.

The ancient man leaned down, offering Harry a hand up, but Harry made no move to take it.

"I'm fine where I am," Harry said, lying back in the puddle. Water ran into his ears, and he could hear his own pulse quiet loudly.

"Harry, please get up." The Headmaster said.

Harry was tempted to say, 'why don't you make me?' but instead, just lay in the mud watching rain land on the lenses of his glasses. When he was moving, running off to Hogsmeade, he could think about ways Dumbledore could have been wrong, how it might not have been Remus. No one who knew him had even seen the body yet. But when Harry realized he would not be able to leave the school and find out for himself, when he realized how trapped he was, he could not think at all after that. It was hopeless.

"Harry, please get up. You'll make yourself ill."

Harry did not answer. _The full moon was last night; Dumbledore must have known something was wrong since this morning. He didn't tell me. He still didn't tell me.  A few more minutes went by, and then Harry heard feet splashing towards him through the water. Ron and Hermione's faces appeared above him blocking out the dark clouded sky. Without a word they pulled Harry to his feet, and helped him up the steps.        _

*****

            "You've reached Lim. Talk or hang up."

            "This is Roger. We turned up something that might interest you."

            "Don't leave me in suspense, sweetheart."

            "A house up in Scotland imploded last night. I've just got into the satellite photos. It's pretty spectacular."

            "I need something more than that, dearest."

            "I know. I know. The photos also show a series of pinpoint flashes in the area around the house over the next few hours. They were hunting someone."

            "How do we know they didn't catch them? It is a long drive after all."

            "I've hacked the real-time feed off the same satellite Lim, they're at it again. I'm e-mailing you the map now. Are you going?"

             "I'm already gone."


	15. Maybe I should Have Walked

Disclaimer: see previous chapters

Author's note This up date sure took forever, well anyway, hope it meets everyone's expectations. Please review.

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 15**

**Maybe I Should Have Walked**

Bill watched the hands of the family clock, which told the wellbeing and whereabouts of all the Weasleys. Ron and Ginny were at school. Fred and George were at work. Percy, where ever he was, was running late. His mother was at home, which he knew of course, because he had seen her on his way in, and his father's hand was slowly working its way over from work to join her. As it traveled, it passed Charlie whose hand pointed to "mortal peril." It had for the past three days. He tore his eyes away from it as he heard the fireplace flare.

"Bill?" called Arthur Weasley.

He supposed his face had given away that something was wrong. "Hi Dad," he said, trying to sound casual.

"What's happened?" Arthur asked.

Before Bill could answer he found himself enveloped in a very unexpected hug. His father released him a moment later and there was an awkward pause. They settled into the worn armchairs that faced the fire. _The war is really getting to him_, Bill thought as he cleared his throat.

"Dumbledore has an assignment for us tonight if you're feeling up to it, after dark."

Arthur nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"It's a search. They've got a few others coming, but the headmaster doesn't expect to find anything." Bill paused, listening for his mother's footsteps.

"Who are we searching for?" his father asked, leaning forward and praying very desperately that the next word would not be the name of one of his children.

"Remus Lupin."

Arthur turned unintentionally to the door way. It was empty. "I take it you didn't tell your mother."

Bill shook his head. "Death Eaters raided the safe house where Remus was locked up for the full moon. We found Tonks about an hour ago, she'll be alright, but…"

"Oh lord," Arthur said quietly. "The Disposal department brought something in this morning."

Bill nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes as rain spattered the windows. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he rarely had time to speak to his father, and he did not know when another opportunity would arise.

"I've got something else to talk to you about as well," Bill said. "About Ron."

His father leaned forward.

"Do you remember that day at King's Cross," Bill paused to shake his head. "Sorry, of course you do. What I mean is did you see the curses Ron was using? He…"

"I saw, Bill."

"I've tried to write to him about it but he doesn't answer. Maybe if you talked to him…"

"What do you want me to say, Bill?"

Bill blanched. "What do I want? Dad, did you see him? He was laughing!"

His father only stared at him.

Bill tried to start again. "He's my brother, and I don't know what to say to him any more. I can't figure out what's going on in his mind. He spent most of the summer in his room, studying. He used to hang about for hours talking about Quidditch and now, now he's changed. We have to do something. He isn't himself."

"What do think I should say Bill?"

He had no answer.

"You see your brother four or five times a year at most. The last time you two had a serious conversation he was nine years old and in complete awe of his eldest brother, on his way to Egypt. He is himself, Bill, you just don't know him that well. He's grown up."

"Grown up into what?"

He had not meant to sound accusatory, but he knew from his father's oddly neutral expression that he had taken it that way. The following silence was filled with tension. When the sun set, and they left for Hogsmead, the feeling remained.

* * *

He was always doing people favors. Elmore Meyer regretted being such a push over, but really when you work in the morgue how many people want you at their dinner parties. Not that he was complaining. He nodded to the Auror on duty, another new security measure, and then stepped into the elevator. His office was one of the few that actually rested below the Department of Mysteries, which meant after the elevator there were three more flights of stairs. He pulled out his wand and unlocked the door. A flock of memos sped around the ceiling of his office like moths. More people asking for favors. After a bit of shuffling and a stiff drink, he changed into his work robes, and stepped into the morgue proper. The new arrival lay on the table in the center of the room.

Someone had taken the pelt. Meyer swallowed hard, and slipped on his gloves. There were strict laws concerning the disposal of part-humans captured by the Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, but very few people bothered to obey them, and monitoring was a joke.

Werewolf pelts were worth quite a bit in the right market. Not only were they banned by international wizarding law, but they were also difficult to preserve. If you wanted the pelt, you had to get it off before the moon went down and the poor bastard reverted to human form. In the rush, the culprit had left most of the hide on the legs and arms.

Meyer carefully rolled the body onto its back. Thin, Caucasian male, eyes too damaged to determine color. The left arm was badly burned. A curse had crippled the creature and a silver blade through the heart had finished the job. Meyer lifted the arm carefully. Lupin reportedly had scars on his forearms, from the werewolf that had attacked him as a child. He was supposed to have scars on his neck as well, but there wasn't enough skin there to tell.

There was a clear bite mark on the left arm, but it was still fresh. Meyer's eyes were drawn to the burned area. He took out his wand, casting a careful cleaning charm. Ash and dried blood faded away. He dropped the arm and stepped back. As the Dark Mark stared up at him, he grinned. _Maybe some do get what's coming to them_. Meyers threw his gloves in the waste bin and strode out of the morgue. He had to make a fire-call to Hogwarts.

* * *

He could just let go and slide back into the water at the bottom of the irrigation ditch. He had been considering it for the past few minutes as he tried to scramble up the slippery decomposing bank. His right leg wouldn't move at all. He thought the tendon behind his knee might have been cut. That leg was the only part of him not yet numb with cold.

He had awakened in a very similar ditch that morning, with blood in his mouth and a huge gash in his leg, and things had gotten progressively worse. _I may even have gone in a circle_, he thought, blinking as more muddy water splashed into his eyes. At least the rain would make it harder for them to find him. Remus looked up at the sky again.

They had been tracking him all day. He did not know what sort of tracking spell they were using, but they seemed unable to pinpoint his exact location. Every few minutes a Death Eater would pass overhead. _Fortunately I am well camouflaged_, he thought miserably, scrubbing at the mud that coated his entire body. The Death Eaters were firing curses into clumps of bushes nearby, trying to flush him out.

He wondered again how he had ended up in this seemingly endless stretch of farmland. Something must have gone wrong at the house. He repeated a silent prayer that Tonks had gotten away unharmed, by him especially. All he remembered were smells: blood, fear, and for some reason, pepper.

With a desperate effort he scrambled high enough to grab a clump of weeds hanging over the edge of the ditch. For a moment he thought they would pull out of the muddy ground, but they held and he crawled on his hands and knees into an orchard.

The leaves were yellow and all the fruit had been picked. He dug through the leaf litter anyway hoping to find a missed apple. All he found were a few large beetles, and he was not quite hungry enough to try eating them. If he dug out a little burrow under the leaves he could warm up and sleep for a bit, but he feared he would not wake up. And waiting for rescue did not seem a good option either, as he had not had even a hint that the Order was looking for him the entire day. He had to keep going.

* * *

"We'll draw straws then," Harry said.

"We don't have any straws," Hermione said. "I did most of the work on the potion, so I'll take it first."

"You will not!" said Ron.

Hermione glared at him, but before they could start arguing Ginny interrupted. "Rock, Paper, Scissors."

"What's that?" asked Neville.

"It's an ancient muggle form of divination," Ginny said.

Hermione laughed nervously.

"How does it work?" asked Ron.

Ginny and Hermione explained the hand gestures and rules.

"…so rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, and paper beats rock. Understood?" Ginny asked.

Ron and Neville nodded solemnly. Harry smirked.

"On three then," said Ginny. "One…Two…Three!"

Ginny and Ron both picked rock, and beat the other three who had chosen scissors. The siblings faced off. Ron was sweating a lot. Harry wanted to laugh, but he was feeling too depressed. They had to take the potion now though, or all that work would be for nothing. They had to take the potion, or they might not be ready next time.

"Ready?" Hermione asked. "One…Two…Three!"

Ron's rock lost to Ginny's paper. She picked up her goblet and scooped out a cup of the now cherry-red Verto potion.

"Wait!" Ron said. They all turned to look at him. "How does paper beat a rock?"

"Those are the rules," Ginny said, raising the cup to her lips.

"No! Watch." Ron said. He held out his hands towards Ginny making the rock and paper signs. "See, if rock beats scissors…" he said leaning closer.

Ginny looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "Well then, you see…" Halfway through his own sentence he snatched the goblet out of her hands and drained it in a single long gulp. Ginny made a fist, ready to punch him in the arm. His face went pale. They all jumped to their feet as Ron gagged, his hands going to his throat.

"Madam Pomfrey!" shouted Neville rushing for the door. Harry caught his arm.

"Forty seven seconds remember?" Harry said.

Ron's hands shook as he moved them away from his neck.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked.

He nodded. "I feel strange…"

Suddenly a bright blue spot of light appeared in the center of his forehead. He looked up at it, cross-eyed. The light spread out and other spots appeared on his arms. A few moments later all his exposed skin was a glowing, iridescent blue.

"Forty three…forty four…forty five…forty six…"

Before Harry reached the final number the light blinked out and Ron was standing in front of them, his normal overly tall self.

"Alright?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded. Ginny punched him in the arm.

"Guess it's our turn then," Harry said. The rest of them filled their goblets.

Seamus was getting rather annoyed. For the past two weeks, Harry, Ron and Neville had been having secret meetings up in the sixth year boy's dormitory. Seamus did not object to secret meetings in general, but he did object to those that were held in his room, by his roommates, to which he was not invited. He would have declined an invitation to participate, as Potter's secret meetings usually involved someone getting gravely injured, but they did not even ask.

Seamus checked his watch again. It was nearly time for fifth period class. _That's it. I'm going in, ready or not!_ He stormed up the stairs, pushed open the door, and immediately regretted doing it.

Harry was on the floor convulsing.

His friends were crouched around him. Ron and his sister, Ginny, were trying to hold him still. Hermione Granger was crying and trying to cast a spell. Neville was mopping up the contents of an overturned cauldron.

Seamus sprinted to the hospital wing.

* * *

The sun had set, changing the wet gray sky into a wet black sky. There was a faint bright spot among the clouds that may have been the moon, but it did nothing to illuminate the muddy ground below. Every few minutes a sprinkle of icy rain would issue forth from the sky, but the storm was nearly spent.

Remus was no longer shivering and he knew that was a bad sign. As he crawled on through yet another fallow field he wondered desperately where everyone had gone. He'd been moving slowly westward all day and had yet to come across any building or road with even a hint of recent occupation. Lupin was not truly lonely of course. Every few minutes a shadow would pass across the sky, reminding him the Death Eaters were still out and about.

He lay down for a moment to rest, and squeezed his eyes shut against another spatter of rain. He could not fight off the hopelessness that washed over him. He didn't expect to see the end of the second war, but he had expected to die fighting it. For the end to come while he was naked and barley able to stand, to simply be murdered, was more then he could bear. _I'm going to die on Halloween, just like Lily and James_. He ground his knuckles into his eyes. _Pull yourself together. Damn it, pull it together. It won't be much longer, just keep it together_. His muddled thoughts were interrupted by a flash of glaring light.

He sat up, trying to see and at the same time keep his head from sticking up above the surrounding weeds. A triangle of light was cutting its way across the far side of the field, and Remus realized it was a muggle car. Its progress was slow and he got the strangest feeling that the driver was searching for something.

If he scrambled for the far corner of the field he could reach the road before the car passed by. But would any one stop for a naked man, covered in filth, who just popped out of the bushes in the middle of the night? And even if they did stop, the Death Eaters could see that light just as well as he could. If the car stopped he would doom them both. Even as he thought of all the consequences, he found himself moving.

Remus scrambled along, bent double. His right leg refused to bear his weight and his breath came in wheezing gasps. The car rolled on undisturbed. He was halfway across the field when the ground in front of him exploded in a flash of green light. The reflected force of the curse knocked him flat on his back and he could not catch his breath. The weeds caught fire, painting everything in flickering orange. Remus knew he had nowhere to hide. With tremendous effort he managed to sit up again. He could see the Death Eater flying towards him across the field. Only the man's white skull mask was truly visible, the rest of him was a blurred black outline against the dark sky. Whatever model of broom he was using was a good one. Remus knew he had three seconds at most to act, but his mind remained empty of all thoughts but one. _I'm going to die._

CRACK!

For an instant Remus thought someone had apparated nearby. He whirled towards the sound only to turn back a second later.

THUMP!

His eyes darted wildly about, but the Death Eater was gone. As he searched for his would be assassin, he realized the car's headlights were gone as well. He scrambled past the crater and the dying fire that impeded his path, to the edge of the field. He was not sure what exactly he hoped to find there, but he had nowhere better to go.

He came to the edge of the road and knelt down, straining to hear the rumble of an engine, but there was nothing. He had missed it. The car had passed. Maybe he had only dreamed it up in the first place. He slumped and put his face in his hands again. He just wanted it to be over.

"Need a tissue, sweetheart?" whispered a low female voice.

He was almost certain he was hallucinating at that point. He looked up and saw a figure crouching among the shrubs on the other side of the road. When he didn't answer the figure slunk forward, low to the ground, and crossed to his side. He could see her more clearly then. A black cloth mask covered her entire head, except for two round eyeholes. Her gray trench coat dragged through the mud as she approached him. She had a pistol in her hand and a rifle slung across her back.

"You seem to be in a spot of trouble," she said creeping towards him.

"I noticed." His voice was so raspy it barely sounded human.

"Observant, that's good quality," she said.

As she came closer he smelled her as well. He got the idea that some time in the past few hours, she had gone swimming in coffee. Her eyes darted about, inspecting the road, the sky, and the surrounding fields. As they settled on him they continued to jiggle around. Despite her wired appearance, her voice was calm.

"This might sound a bit cliché," she said, "But there's an easy way and a hard way to go about things from here on, and before you get all puffed up and macho on me, hear me out, because you are not in any condition to go the hard way, are you following me?"

Remus nodded.

"Excellent. The hard way starts out with me knocking you unconscious, tying you up, tossing you in the boot of my car, and then passing you on to some fellows with talent for extracting information. Most people go that way and I never hear good things about it."

She crouched in front of him, barely a foot away. He swallowed, and looked down at his unresponsive leg. He wasn't going to outrun this particular lunatic. That was certain. She looked nearly as large as him, and in much better health. He didn't think tackling was a viable option, either.

"Now, the easy way, and you're going to want to pay special attention here, love." Her gloved hand caught his jaw. He started as she pulled his face back towards her.

"It involves you behaving like a civilized person. You sit in the passenger seat. We take a little trip. You answer a few questions, and I'll see if I can't do something about that nasty little cut on your leg. Of course with the easy way I expect a bit of discretion. I can't have nasty little wizards following me about everywhere trying to erase my memory. I'm running out of places to bury them."

Remus watched her for a moment longer, unsure of how to respond. _Maybe if I ignore her, she'll go away_.

"You need to make a choice soon, dear," she said, her hand dropping away. "We don't quite know when the next Reaper is going to fly by on a broom, do we?" She was leaning in as she spoke, and he had suspicions that she was going to hit him over the head if he declined to go quietly.

"I suppose the easy way sounds good," he rasped finally.

"Smashing!" she declared.

She paused for a moment to readjust the rifle across her back, then took off her coat. She went through the pockets, and then tossed it to him. Under it she was wearing a thick vest. Her heavily tattooed upper arms were exposed. He couldn't quite make out the markings in the faint light; one of the blurry figures might have been a bird.

It occurred to him as he pulled the coat over his shaking shoulders that he should be a lot more embarrassed by the situation, but he really didn't have the energy. When he had finished doing up the buttons she spoke again.

"Now dear, as you've agreed to go the easy way I don't want any funny stuff, right? No trying to jump out of the car, or knock me over the head, and definitely no grabbing at my guns, understood?"

He nodded. She stood up, and scanned the skies overhead. Apparently satisfied, she grabbed him under the arms and pulled him to his feet. He tried to put weight on his right leg, and would have fallen had she not caught him around the waist.

"Put an arm on my shoulder sweets. It's a bit of a hike to the car."

By the time they got to the car Remus was more then ready to pass out. With each jarring, hopping step his back twinged in agony. His vision was tunneling in and even with the woman carrying more then half of his weight he felt exhausted.

He did not know very much about muggle cars, but this one looked rather fast to him, as it only had two doors, and seemed to be mostly engine. Had there been enough light to see, he thought it would be red. The woman pulled a keychain from her pants pocket. She leaned Remus up against the hood of the car and went around to the boot. He heard her rattling about and there was an ominous clanking that sounded an awful lot like chains to him. She slammed the lid and came back around, carrying a beat up gym bag. She tossed it on the hood next to him, and began to rummage through it, eventually producing a tee shirt with a logo for Byron's Athletic center and a blood stain on the front, and a pair of black sweatpants with a hole in the knee. Lupin took them carefully. He stared at her for a moment, hoping she would take the hint and give him a bit of privacy. She apparently followed his train of thought, but wasn't inclined to oblige.

"Sorry love, I don't trust you that far," she said. "And I doubt you've anything I didn't see fifteen minutes ago."

* * *

"I cannot believe you would do something so foolish!" raged McGonagall.

Harry stared up at her passively from his hospital bed. "I haven't done anything," he replied coolly.

"Mr. Finnegan tells a different story. He says you were taking illegal potions, and that you forced your friends to dispose of the evidence."

"I don't recall doing anything like that."

"Your friends are being interviewed right now in separate rooms. They will tell us what you have done."

"They won't, because I haven't done anything."

The Head of Gryffindor House took a deep hissing breath through her teeth.

Harry tried to look more honest before continuing. "Professor, I don't know what Seamus said he saw. The five of us were just practicing deflecting curses, and I got his with a Tarantallegra. My legs went out of control and I fell down. I accidentally kicked over a project of Neville's which I don't think was illegal. Hermione was laughing at me, and then Seamus burst in and ran back out. That's all that happened."

"I know you are lying," McGonagall said. Her rage seemed to be fading into rampant disappointment. "What am I to do with you?"

Harry shifted in the bed. His feet and hands felt ice cold, but even buried under a huge pile of blankets he could not warm them.

"Maybe you should stop trying to do things with me. I'm starting to think I'm a lost cause."

McGonagall stood glaring at him, and he found he didn't care. That worried him a bit. He knew he usually cared a great deal about what McGonagall thought about him, but at that moment all he felt was cold.


	16. Meal and Deals

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 16: Deals and Meals**

Gray sunlight poured through the window. Remus groaned and blinked. He went to rub his eyes and was jerked more fully awake as his arm caught on something.  He leaned forward and saw that a thin metal band was chaining his right wrist to a bar on the side of the seat. A moment later it sunk in that he was alone in the car. He looked for the woman, but she was gone. The mask she had worn lay on the empty driver's seat, with a note resting on top of it.

**Stay put Sweetie,**

**I'll be back in a minute.**

            It was not signed.  Remus sighed and yawned. He went to cover his mouth and his arm caught up again. He looked out the windows, and saw only rows and rows of empty cars on either side. His head was starting to pound and his right leg was throbbing and sore.

            The woman had insisted on pouring some burning stinging liquid over the gash in his leg, and then wrapping it up in bandages before she let him sit in the car. She also made him swallow a handful of pills, which she identified as Vicodin, Erythromycin, and another long name he could not recall. The pain in his leg had faded away; unfortunately so had consciousness.

            And so here he was. It was a bad morning he supposed, but at least it was better then yesterday. He tugged at the chain again, and it bit into his skin. He tried to open the glove box in the dashboard but it was locked. He tried pushing the little buttons and pulling the levers on the inside of the door, but they did not do anything. The last time he had ridden in a muggle car, there was a handle for rolling down the windows, but he could not find one here. He leaned forward, and with his left hand felt around under the seat. He grew dizzy and nauseous, but his fingers closed over something before he was forced to sit up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The headache was growing worse, but after a few seconds his vision stopped spinning and he inspected his prize. It was a small book, with the cheap paper cover and glue binding that muggles seemed fond of.

**_Conversational Russian_**

            At first glance it did not provide any valuable clue to the identity of his captor. He flipped through the book and skimmed the dog-eared pages. On second glance it was not so useful either.

The driver's side door swung open.

            "Good to see you're up and about, Love," said the woman as she settled into the driver's seat, a paper bag in one hand and a cardboard tray with two paper cups in the other.

             She had changed out of the heavy vest into a shirt that declared her a member of the Kiss Army, and had wrapped a scarf around her head, covering hair and ears. A large square set of sunglasses hid her eyes. Remus recognized her then. She'd made no effort to hide the scar running up the left side of her neck.

            "You were at the train station," he said.

            "What train station would that be?"

            "King's Cross, September 1st, you were there."

            "It's possible," she said, handing him one of the cups from the tray.

            "What's in it?" Remus asked, taking it with his free left hand.

            "Old family recipe: a teabag and water."

            Remus looked down at the surface of the liquid. It looked like tea, and smelled like it, but that didn't mean there weren't three drops of Veritaserum in it as well. Then again he'd taken a hand full of pills she'd given him and he hadn't come to any harm. The woman snorted and snatched the cup. She took a long sip, before handing it back.

            "See Sweetheart, perfectly safe."

            She drank from her own cup which, from the smell, contained coffee. Remus sighed and drank the tea. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until then. He tipped back the cup to get the last of it and the wet teabag slapped him on the nose. She reached into the paper bag and handed him a plastic bottle full of water, then she started the engine.  

            They were on the road for several hours before speaking again. For the most part the woman seemed content to let him doze in the passenger's seat. He knew he should probably be planning an escape of some sort, but he was feeling too much like gum on the bottom of a shoe. If she offered him another handful of pills, he wouldn't say "No thanks." He finally broke the silence.

"Who are you?" Remus asked.

            "Do you want a name or are we getting complicated and existential?"

            "A name would be helpful."

            "I'm Lim. Like an arm, but without a 'b'."

            He tried to remember if he had ever heard that name before. He was fairly certain it was atypical, but muggles called themselves some pretty strange things.

            "Aren't you going to ask me my name?" he asked a bit confused by her apparent lack of interest in conversation.

            "I already know your name dear," said Lim.

            He wanted to say "oh yeah, then what is it?" but that would be far too juvenile. Instead he asked "Where are we going?"

            "I suppose here is far enough."

            The car turned off the road into the gravel parking lot of a very rundown restaurant. The grayish paint was peeling and the tarpaper roof was patched with a tarp weighed down at the corners with rocks. The name above the door was too faded to read, but a cardboard sign in the window said "OPEN." Remus saw a pale rubbery faced old man peeping out the window at them as the car crunched to a halt.

            Lim pulled back on her trench coat and then leaned over and unlocked the chain around his wrist. She came around to his side of the car and helped him out. He saw she had picked up a tattered black briefcase in the two seconds she'd been out of sight. She half carried him to the door.

            The smell of mildew was almost overwhelming, and Remus was completely incapacitated by sneezes for a full minute. When his eyes stopped watering enough for him to look about, he was less then impressed. The proprietor, who'd seen them coming, now stood behind the bar. He wiped the warped wooden counter with a filthy gray rag and glared at them with sunken suspicious eyes.

            "The bathroom's for pay' in customers only," he declared warily in a slow wobbly voice.

            "What's the soup of the day Sweetheart?" Lim asked, smiling in a not so friendly way.

            The man bent down and fished two dusty cans from beneath the counter, and gave them a quick scrub with the rag. "Chicken noodle or split pea."

            She looked at Remus, who shrugged.

            "Split pea and a couple a' pints then. Bathroom's this way?" She nodded towards a dank and forbidding hall.

            The rubbery faced man inclined his head.

            Much to Remus' relief Lim did not attempt to follow him in, but she lurked in front of the door and caught his arm the second he came out. She dragged him to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, even though there were no other customers and many empty tables between here and there. She set him down on the cracked vinyl seat, and dragged over another chair so he could prop up his leg. She slouched down across from him and dropped the tattered briefcase on the table. She snapped open the latches and took out a pile of muggle photographs, which she began to lay out, face down.

"See Sweetheart, this is my problem; I think we are more or less on the same side of this ongoing unpleasantness."

She began to slide the photos around until they were in three piles.

"More or less," she said again.

Remus reached out for the nearest pile of photos. His hand hovered over them. He looked at Lim, but her face was blank. He turned one over.

            It was taken from a high angle, maybe from a roof top, but he couldn't be sure. Eight men in black robes and white masks encircled a terrified young couple in evening wear. He glanced back at Lim, but her face was still impassive. He turned another photo.

            It was less dramatic. A Death Eater in full costume stood by a parked car. Another photo; Lucius Malfoy, undisguised, stood in an alley looking up at the camera. One after another candid shots of Death Eaters were revealed. A few shots of the Ministry of Magic's obliviation squad were mixed into the pile as well. As Remus turned over the last photo, his breath caught. His eyes darted to Lim's face, and he knew she'd noticed his slip in composure. He looked back at the photo.

            A limp arm was posed before the camera by gloved hands. Though Voldemort's mark made his stomach turn, another mark held more of his attention. On the wrist, right below the thumb was an old burn scar. _The mark of James Potter_, Remus though darkly. He remembered that day in fifth year potions class very clearly. James had "accidentally" splashed Manticore bile onto Severus Snape's arm.

            Lupin was about to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of flat beer and watery pea soup. The rubbery faced man glared down at the pictures as he set down their order. Lim gave him another smile, showing off far too many teeth to be nice.

            "Can I get a couple a' coffees Love?"

            "You pay' in with cash or credit?" the man demanded.

            "Cash of course."

            Apparently satisfied, he turned and waddled off. Lim pushed both bowls over to Remus. He didn't have any appetite but began spooning the green liquid into his mouth anyway. He tried to remember what he was going to say, but couldn't recall. Lim gathered up the photos Remus had inspected, shuffling them together like playing cards.

            "We call them Reapers," she said. "Because of the Grim Reaper outfits, no Scythe though, just a mean green light."

            She looked at him, as if waiting for his input. He knew the best course of action was to keep his mouth firmly shut and play dumb, but if he could get her talking, maybe he could find out what happened to Snape, or at least where she go the picture. He took a quick swallow of beer.

            "They call themselves Death Eaters," he volunteered, trying to sound conversational.

            "Not very friendly are they."

            "Not very."

            Lim gave him a look that made him take another gulp from his pint. "We've linked them to over four thousand unexplained disappearances in the past eight months."

            Lupin choked, and beer dribbled out his nose. "Four thousand?" he said, trying and failing to pull a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table.

            "That's just in England and Ireland. London is disproportionately afflicted, seventeen hundred of the total count, as of last Tuesday that is." She fished out a napkin for him. "There are thousands more if you go back farther and it gets into the millions when you look globally. Not all "Death Eater" related of course."

            "Seems like a dangerous thing to get involved in," Remus said carefully.

            She shrugged. "Vested interest."

            They watched each other until the rubbery faced man returned with the coffee. Lim took a sip, made a sour face, and then took another. Remus drank from his pint, finishing off the last of the less then pleasant brew.

            Lim started turning over photographs from a second pile. One after another, random wizards and witches were revealed. Some were in robes, others were attempting to blend in with muggle clothes. She picked out one photo of a balding red haired man in golf pants and a football jersey, attempting to work a coin operated soda machine. There was a look of delighted bafflement on his face. Though the picture was taken from very close by, Arthur Weasley was completely unaware of his stalker.

            "The problem I have with these people is I'm not sure which of them puts on the robes and masks at night for a bit of torture and terror in my city. It would be easy enough to get rid of them. Close enough for a picture is close enough for a bullet, but I've never been a fan of random shootings. Why don't you help me sort these Love?"

            Absentmindedly Remus started on the second pint. "I don't know all these people."

            "Best guess then."

            She set Arthur's picture down and picked up another. Remus didn't know the woman, though judging from the nose she was probably a member of the Bones family.

"I'm not going to tell you to shoot any of these people!" he said, frustrated.  

She set the woman's photo down next to Arthur's. The next one was of Bill Weasley, standing in a vacant lot. She raised an eyebrow.

"What about him, Love? It is a fetching hair style, but he looks a bit dangerous to me."

"The no shooting pile," Remus finally said.

He sent nearly all of the photos to the "no shooting" pile, but when a blurry picture of Undersecretary Umbridge came up, he sorted her under maybe. His head was pounding terribly as she put the second pile back in the briefcase.

"Do you have anymore of those tablets?" he asked, rubbing as his temples.

She fished a plastic bottle out of her coat pocket and shook two red pills into his hand. He swallowed them down with a bit more of the not so wonderful beer. She raised an eyebrow and seemed about to say something, but changed her mind.

The last pile sat between them. Remus felt equal parts curiosity and trepidation. His fingers touched the back of the top photo, and he found it disturbingly cold, as if it had been on ice during their entire discussion. He flipped it over.

The photo showed a street corner on a sunny afternoon. There was nothing particularly interesting about the photo except for a mysterious black smudge hovering by a dormant lamppost. He turned the next photo. Two men were running towards the camera, a large group of black smudges a few yards behind.

"Order is important here," Lim commented, laying out the next three photos side by side.

A woman cowered in an alley next to a dumpster. Black smudges surrounded her. In the next picture the smudges blocked her from sight. A third photo showed the woman, supported by two men. She held her own head up, but her eyes were blank and staring.

"We can't really see them," Lim said watching him, "But they do show up on old fashion photographs."

"Dementors," Remus said.

He reached out to turn over more pictures and nearly knocked his mug off the table. On the second try he got to them. Twenty pictures in all. Dark smears floated through a crowded market. Dark smears chased people up and down the sidewalk. And army of dark smears hovered on the wooded edge of a town.

"What exactly are Dementors?" Lim asked leaning forward a bit.

Remus put his hand to his head. The room seemed to be slowly tilting up on its left side.

"They're foul…evil…they feed off of happiness and they…suck all the good out of everything they come near."

His mouth felt cottony and he finished off the second pint.

"They take your soul if they…when they kiss you…"

"Must be some kiss," Lim commented.

Remus started to nod, but after tilting his chin down, he couldn't quite muster the effort to lift it back up again. He folded his arms on the table and put his head down.

 

All the torches were dormant, though thin lines of smoke still trickled up from their tips, ready to burst into flame once more if one of the living needed light. They did not burn for the thing in the antler chair, but she did not need them to. She sat in the darkness and listened to the living as they bumbled about in the towers above and the dungeons below. She sat, lost in the sounds of the world she was no longer a part of. She spent most of her time like that, perpetually separate and waiting. She'd been given purpose again, but it was not nearly enough.

"Professor Greypond?" called a teenage boy through the sealed doors.

She wiggled her fingers and the left door swung inward. Tentatively a head with messy black hair leaned in; Harry Potter again. The torches came to life and he jumped a bit. The boy seemed startled by his own shadow, though being marked for death could make a person jumpy, all things considered.

"Come in."

The false voice echoed off the walls and the boy stepped in. He jumped again as the door shut behind him. His hair was wet, and the mind sealant had been washed from his forehead. She'd have to make another batch soon. She still had half a cauldron full, but at the rate he was using it…It made her rather nostalgic for the days when people only bathed at Easter and Christmas.  She floated up from her chair and waved the boy into it. As he sat down, the chair changed its pattern of rocking and the tiny bells strung between the antlers changed their tune. All things welcome the living.

She held out her hand and a bowl of the red paste flew to her from the back of the room.

"Still sleep walking?" she asked.

The boy nodded. "A couple of times, but I always wake up when I run into the door."

She pushed back his bangs and looked at his scar. She ran a thumb over it and the boy leaned further back in his seat, trying to pull away from her touch. The skin was no longer an angry blood red, though the paste wasn't doing his acne any good. She pried back the lid of his left eye and peered in.

"Any other side effects?" she asked. "And quit squirming," she added.

"I'm not…" he cut himself off. She new he was still afraid of her and trying very hard not to show it. "I get head aches sometimes, but they're not nearly as bad as when my scar burned before, so I guess it balances out."

She could tell he wanted to say something else, so she waited, with her desiccated hand resting on top of his head.

"I feel weird some times."

"How so?"

He looked around as if he suspected someone was spying on him. Someone was but that was a little beside the point. "It's like I'm not really awake."

 She could feel the anxiety turning and rolling about in his mind. Without the sealant she knew how uncertain he was, and how badly he wanted direction. He wanted someone to tell him what to do, how to make things right.

_Would any one ever know?_ she mused. _If I just moved into the back of his head, who would look for me there?_

With a mind damaged as his was, it wouldn't be difficult to possess him. It would benefit them both she told herself. She could provide him with knowledge, and protect him from other intrusions. The dark wizard pursuing him couldn't possibly know the arts as she did. Sensation was not too high a price to pay for that protection; to eat and drink and walk barefoot across a lawn. Was it so wrong to want to be part of something living again?

The boy started up at her. She knew he was wondering what was taking her so long to answer, fearing that the more she had to think about it, the worse it would be. His stomach was roiling. Envy rose up in her. _To feel even that again…_

  _He doesn't need another parasite!_, she told herself finally.

The boy continued to watch her. She pushed the thoughts from her mind, pulling up all she could on the topic he'd requested.

"That's not so surprising," she said, carefully slathering the paste over the scar. "You're used to being a little beside yourself."

"What?"

"Remember what I said about your mind being like a house that was missing a wall? Sealing that space up does more then just keep dark wizards out. It also keeps you in."

"I don't understand," he said.

"With the hole in you mind sealed, you're less aware of the little oddities that are out of most people's range of perception."

"I still don't understand."

"Go look at one of the ghosts if you get a chance, see if anything's different. My guess is your view of the world's never been quite normal. You'll get used to it. The same thing happens to Mediums sometimes."

"Mediums?"

"People who are conduits for supernatural forces or wills. Don't they teach you anything in Divinations?"

"The teacher just predicted my death until I flunked out of the class." The boy cringed as the paste began to run down beside his eyes.

"Do you really want me to explain it?"  Greypond asked.

In all honesty she wanted temptation to depart, but the boy seemed determined to test her. He nodded.

"Do you have another class you should be going to right now?" she asked.

"Nope."

She paused, thinking of the best way to present the information. She sent the leftover paste back to the cauldron.

"Is a Medium like a Seer?" he asked.  

"No, they're almost opposites. A Seer can divine information from the world. They actively study and understand the fabric of reality. When certain forces intersect they can find patterns and 'see' what is coming in the future. They're rather rare."

"On the other hand a Medium is passive. A Medium is like a sponge. If you put them near something interesting they'll absorb it and sometimes you can ring it back out of them. They can be possessed by spirits. They hear voices and echoes of the dead, and they're aware of powerful things, but they can't do much about it. Mediums are more common since they can be made as well as born. If a near death experience or a really good spell can punch enough holes in someone's mind they'll probably end up a Medium."

"So I'm a Medium?"

"You might qualify, but with all the other odd stuff in your life, I doubt that one category is enough."

The boy sat thoughtfully in the chair. His hands rested on the curved antlers. Absentmindedly he ran his fingers across the polished surface. _It probably feels cool_, she thought as she watched him.

"Why don't you find a book on it in the library?" She interrupted her own thoughts, hoping he would take he hint and go.

            He looked up at her, startled, and then nodded and got to his feet. She didn't watch him go, but did listen to his foot steps. She settled back in her chair, and the rocking change. The bells grew more quiet. She closed her stone eyes, and imagined she could feel the heat that a warm body left behind.   

            He woke in the car again. The sun had gone down and rain pounded on the hood. His head ached and he groaned. He felt as if he was spinning in a circle, but a bleary look out the window showed him they were parked. Brick buildings towered on either side of them. Lim sat in the driver's seat, watching him.

            "What did you do?" Remus mumbled rubbing his eyes.

            "Me?" she asked innocently. "You're the one who mixed painkillers and alcohol."

            "What?"

            "Never mind Love. We've got business to finish and you're running late."

            "What do you want then?" he asked. He realized she hadn't chained him to the seat again.

            "It's not just what I want, Love, it's what I can give you. I know you're interested in the photos. You're wondering how I got them maybe?"

            He nodded for her to continue.

            "I get my information by being everywhere, and being invisible. I've got contacts all over this country and if somebody sees something strange, the who, where, and when always filters down to me. The why and how are another story. That's where you come in. You're part of a group with goals parallel to my own. The Order, is it? No need to answer. Here's the proposition dearest. I want to trade for information. What I showed you is the tip of a very nasty iceberg."

            "If you know so much what do you need from me?"

            "That's the heart of the matter Sweets. You have power, magic, the force, or whatever, and I don't. I can take out a Reaper or two when their guards down, but they'll notice sooner or later that I exist. When it happens I'll go down fighting, blood, guts, and glory, but that's really not the end I want. I can't compete with most of Reapers if they see me coming. But, bring up King's Cross again, I've seen that you can; under the proper full armed circumstances that is."

            The window on her side of the car was down and her hand stretched out through it, palm up, collecting rain drops.

            "So you give us the reconnaissance, and we," Remus paused trying to come up with the correct muggle phrase. "Take them out?"

            "That's nearly it, except I don't exist. I'll send information along to you. Nobody else knows about me."

            "So how do I explain where the information came from?"

            She snorted. "I don' know. Magic maybe?"

            "I have to tell superior at least."

            "Doesn't work that way, Love. I've got contacts to protect. I should've just turned you over for interrogation, but you'd end up a babbling vegetable or with your brain splattered across the wall of an alley, and I think I'd regret having to do that. We know about the memory alterations and the truth serum. Nobody in this mess as deep as I am is captured alive. Honestly, contact with you is an unacceptable risk, but then again you have a weakness that's easily exploitable."

            "What do you mean?" Remus said, his eyes narrowing.

            "You seem to care quite a bit about," she paused appraising his reaction, "civilian casualties."

            He stiffened.

            "Those people in the "no shooting" pile, if I can't trust you to keep your mouth shut, how can I trust your judgment regarding them?  This isn't to force a "yes" out of you. If you say "no", you'll be free to carry on, business as usual, no threats or reprisals and whatnot. People only get hurt if you go blabbing about running into me and living to tell the tale."

            She started the engine of the car and they rolled slowly onto the main street. Remus glared at her. His head ached, and he didn't know what he should say. They turned the block and Lim double parked in front of a familiar record shop. She got out amid blasting car horns, and came around to his side. She helped him out of the car, into the rain. He glared at her and was a bit surprised when she shrugged off her trench coat and settled it on his rapidly soaking shoulders.

            "No need to decide this instant. I left a card in one of the pockets. It's got a time, date, and location on it. If you decide yes, show up alone. If you decide no, don't come. If you others after me there'll be hell to pay."

            Remus looked up the block. He could see the worn sign in front of the Leaky Cauldron. If only a member of the Order would choose that moment to walk out of it…

            "Don't get ideas," she said, following his glance. "I'll be long gone before you reach the door."

            He looked back at her. The scarf around her head was rapidly soaking through. She'd taken her sunglasses off and he cold see the skin around her eyes was badly scared by burns. She didn't have any eyebrows.

            "Well don't just stare at me. You've got more sense then to stand out in the rain."

            Slowly he hobbled toward the door of the Leaky Cauldron, never quite turning his back to her. She returned to her car, completely unhurried. His hand was just touching the door knob when the engine roared. The car vanished around the end of the block before he could turn it.

            Harry sat on the window sill looking out at the dark grounds of Hogwarts. The rain was back, and very distantly he could hear thunder. The Marauder's map lay unfolded across his knees. Every few hours a member of the Order would appear just outside the grounds and scramble to the castle. Mr. Weasley and Bill had come and gone just after sunset. A man he didn't know named Alvin Sebranek came up at a little past eleven. No one had come to get him, to tell him if they'd found anything. Even if they did find Professor Lupin, they probably wouldn't tell him. Harry sighed and was about to fold up the map when a dot appeared on the road from Hogsmead.

            Harry rubbed his eyes, afraid he was imagining things, but the label didn't waver.

**_Remus J. Lupin_**

Harry let out an ecstatic laugh and ran from the dorm. Ron called after him, and halfway out of the tower Harry realized he'd forgotten his shoes. He didn't care. He pushed open the main doors of the castle and went slipping and sliding across the rain soaked lawn. Lightening flashed nearby, but didn't disturb him. In the brief burst of light he saw Lupin hobbling through the front gates.

The exhausted man was looking down at his own feet as he trudged along and nearly fell over as Harry skidded to a halt in front of him.

"You shouldn't …be outside," Lupin mumbled.

"Neither should you!" Harry said, feeling stupidly happy.

He wrapped the former professor's arm around his shoulder and sped him along. Lupin was in muggle clothes and he didn't have any shoes either. He had a trench coat wrapped around him and his wet hair was plastered to his head.  Harry wanted to pepper him with questions, but it was obvious even to him that Lupin wasn't feeling up to it. They made it into the castle and through the front hall without incident.

Harry pulled open the door of the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey! Wake up! Hello!"

He was helping Lupin to the nearest bed when he noticed the figure lurking in shadows at the far end of the main room. Harry realized his wand was still on the night stand by his bed in Gryffindor tower. He tackled Lupin to the floor as a jet of red blasted the bed in front of them into a cloud of wood chips and feathers. Lupin struggled to move with Harry sprawled across his chest. They both looked up to see Professor Snape striding silently towards them. His wand was raised and the end burned with green light.  


	17. Out of Sight, Into Mind

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 17: Out of Sight, Into Mind**

            Snape stood glaring down at them. His mouth was moving. Harry couldn't tell it he was trying to speak or cast a spell but the sounds pouring out of his mouth weren't any language he'd ever heard before.

            "Hel ladseri skaod adoe em are and lake!" Snape let out a growl of frustration and put his fists to the sides of his head as if it were causing him great pain. Harry started to get up, but immediately Snape's wand was pointing in his face. Harry put up his hands in surrender.

            "What is the meaning of this!" shouted the familiar and reproachful voice of Madam Pomfrey as she walked briskly into the hospital wing. She was tightening her bathrobe with one hand and aiming her wand with the other.

            "Severus why are you out of your room?"

            Snape let out another stream of nonsense words and pointed at Harry and Lupin sprawled together on the floor.

            "He tired to kill us!" Harry declared pointing at the remains of the bed, which was still smoldering.

            "I am certain that wasn't his intention, Harry," said a calm voice from the doorway.

Headmaster Dumbledore walked into the room. He too was dressed for bed, in florescent green pajamas with orange dragons on the cuffs. He put a hand on Snape's shoulder and pointed him to a nearby chair. Snape went and sat, but continued to glare at Harry and Lupin, and did not put away his wand. Harry sprang to his feet and helped Lupin limp to another chair.

"Remus, it is good to see you alive and well," said Dumbledore. "Harry, you look exhausted. Return to Gryffindor tower. You can visit at a more respectable hour."

"But…"

Dumbledore looked at him questioningly and Harry shut his mouth. He knew he would not get anywhere arguing, and the Headmaster had not yet asked Harry about the incident of the previous day. If he stuck around Dumbledore might just get answers out of him. Harry nodded to Lupin and walked quickly out the door. He looked back and saw that Snape's glare remained fixed on the former professor, who slumped tiredly in his chair, shivering despite the heavy gray coat he wore.

"Remus, when Madam Pomfrey had finished with you, please come to my office," the Headmaster said.

He put a hand on Snape's shoulder and tried to guide him to his room in the back of the hospital wing, but Snape dodged around him. The potions professor let out another string of nonsense words, and tugged on the front of his own robes, then pointed at Remus.

"Something about his clothes?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Snape stared at the Headmaster, but there was no comprehension in his sunken eyes. Dumbledore reached out towards him again, and again Snape dodged. He side stepped the old man and rushed toward Remus. The injured man looked at him warily, but as he was unarmed and unable to run, there wasn't much he could do to avoid the rather deranged professor, who grabbed him by the front of his coat. Snape tugged on the coat so hard he nearly pulled him off his chair. Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster were both yelling at him, but he ignored them. Remus grabbed his wrists and began to push him away. As he did, he looked up into Snape's enraged glare.

Remus breath hitched. Images poured unbidden into his mind. A werewolf charged up the garden path, and he was too stunned to close the door against it. Lily and James' house reduced to smoldering rubble. Alice and Frank Longbottom in their beds at St. Mungo's babbling and crying. Harry charging toward Sirius as he fell backwards through the Arch in the Department of Mysteries. He realized that Snape was using Legilimency on him, but he could not control his own thoughts enough to do anything about it.

More recent memories were dragged up. He pulled at the chain binding him to the passenger seat of Lim's car. He saw her coming towards him, across the muddy road, gun leveled. He saw her on the train platform at King's Cross, side stepping the falling body of a Death Eater she'd stabbed with a wicked looking knife.

Suddenly the uncontrollable flood of memories halted. His ears were ringing and he realized he had been shouting. He also noticed he was lying on the floor. The Headmaster was rather forcefully escorting Snape away from him. Pomfrey helped Remus up and over to a bed. His eyelids tried to sink shut. As Pomfrey began to pull the muggle bandages off of his once again agonizing leg, he went through the pockets of the trench coat. He found it, and without looking at it, slid it under his pillow. As Pomfrey started to lecture him on proper first aid, he let his eyes sink closed.

The book smelled old and musty, rather comforting and familiar. Old books always smelled like that. He shifted around in the lumpy arm chair to get a bit more light on the page.

_Meditative exercises are indispensable when learning to control the deeper actions and workings of the mind.  A clear and controlled mind is key._

Harry glared at the text. It was starting to sound a lot like Professor Snape's less then useful instructions from the previous year. At least the book wasn't constantly yelling that he "was making no effort!" The paragraph went on to describe the importance of a clear mind. He was becoming more then a little frustrated.

He and Hermione had spent most of lunch in the restricted section looking for books on Legilimency and Occlumency. The selection was disappointingly small, vague, and written in Latin. Harry was about to give up when he saw a gold stamped binding on the top shelf, five feet above his head. _Lucky I'm trained to hone in on shiny objects_, he thought snidely. The book's only identification was the stamp, a tiny golden brain. It had no title, author, or index, but Harry's gut told him he'd found what he needed.

A note from Hagrid had gotten the book out of the library, but finding a place to read it was a little more problematic. Harry didn't want Dumbledore to know he was studying the topic on his own. He didn't want the Headmaster to think himself right. Unfortunately teachers had taken to looking over his shoulder in the past few days. The only place he could get any privacy was in his bed with the curtains pulled. McGonagall was still trying to figure out what potion he'd taken and had such a bad reaction to. Fortunately Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and even Neville had all stuck to the story they'd rehearsed, and the faculty was still in the dark. The only one who wasn't constantly and suspiciously peeping at him was Hagrid, which was why Harry was hiding out in his hut.

Harry really wanted to read the Animagus text, but it was too much of a risk. Actually what he really wanted was to find out what happened to Lupin, but he had to do something to keep his mind off it, or he'd start punching random walls again. He went back to the text.

_The following exercises will assist in clearing the mind of thought and feeling. First, one must close their eyes._

Harry did so, and then, realizing he needed to read the rest of the instructions, opened them again. He read the page. He closed his eyes. The instructions echoed in his head as if a voice were speaking from deep inside his mind.

_Envision a room, fully furnished, with a door in one corner. Imagine it in as much detail as possible, the carpet, the tapestries, the upholstery. Imagine photographs on the tables, flowers in a decorative vase. Look around this room. See everything._

_You are alone in this room. There is no sound but your own breathing. There are no clocks. Time is unimportant. Look around the room. See everything._

_Sit down on the floor. Imagine yourself with your eyes closed, in the middle of the room. You know were everything is. You hear nothing but your own heartbeat._

_The tapestries fade away. You do not open your eyes, but you know they are gone. The photographs fade away, and then the table, and then the chairs. They are gone. They are not important._

_You are sitting in the middle of the room. There is nothing around you. There is only you. There is silence. Your heart is slow and even. You no longer hear it, only feel it. Breath in.            Breath out.            Breath in.      Breath out.         Breath…."_**What are yeh doin' Harry?"**

Harry sat up suddenly as the words crashed through his nice empty mind. The book fell with an unhappy thump on the floor. Hagrid was standing over him with a bucket of fish heads, looking concerned.

"Oh, I was…I must've fallen asleep," Harry said. He felt incredibly disoriented.

Hagrid didn't look convinced. "Your eyes were open."

"They weren't…really?"

Hagrid nodded. "And you were breathing funny too."

"Oh."

"I think I'd better walk yeh back to the castle now."

Harry nodded and collected his book. They set off across the wet grass.

            A few older students stopped to say hello to him as he made his way to the Headmaster's office. Remus was more then a little surprised to be greeted in such a friendly manner. They obviously knew he was a werewolf, as the news had made the front page of the Daily Prophet for three days straight. He nodded and smiled in return and told them not to be late for their classes.

            The gargoyle stepped aside before he could name even a single candy, and he stepped onto the rising staircase. His right leg was still sore but once again functional. He was hoping Madam Pomfrey would keep him longer, but when he woke up, halfway through the morning, she told him he could go. She'd laid out a proper set of robes for him as well. The trench coat that had driven Snape into such a frenzy was gone as well.  Remus found the card under his pillow, where he'd stuffed it the night before. As the moving stairs brought him closer to Dumbledore he glanced at the card again.

            It was a plane white business card. The front was stamped with three block letters.

**L.I.M.******

On the back, instructions were hand printed in blue ink.

_Mr. Lupin,_

_Should you choose to accept the previously discussed terms of business,_

_Please arrive at the Turn Up Club promptly at __10 P.M.__ this Friday._

_Cover is five pounds. Try to dress appropriately._

The stairs grated to a stop, and the door to the Headmaster's office lay open before him.

The interview did not take nearly as long as he feared it would. It took less then ten minutes for him to recount all the events that followed the full moon. He passed over a few details, as he didn't see it wholly necessary to mention that he'd taken quite a few muggle drugs. He did not leave out Lim's implied threat against the random wizards she'd shown him pictures of, or her claim of having killed members of the obliviation task force. He'd reported the incident at King's Cross immediately after it happened, and he was certain Dumbledore had put those pieces together as well. When he finished his tale the Headmaster simply stared at him passively. He asked to see the card Remus had been given. Remus handed it over. After a few minutes of study it was returned to him.

"The Order can not be involved in such a huge breach in the Statute of Secrecy, and from what you've told me the muggle organization represented by Lim does not want direct contact with us. It seems a shame to ignore any source of information in this time of crisis. Alas, I have a higher authority to answer to. I think it would be best not to speak of this again, unless it becomes more pressing."

Remus nodded and stood to leave. As he reached the door way, Dumbledore called after him.

 "You've been doing so much for The Order recently, Remus.  Why don't you take this weekend off?"

Dinner in the Great Hall seemed unusually noisy to Harry. He thought it might be a sign of having successfully meditated. McGonagall glared at him continuously as he ate. He returned to Gryffindor tower and finished his home work, and his catch up home work, and his extra D.A. meeting research. He looked about and realized he was the only one still awake in the common room. Hermione was slumped over a pile of rune texts, drooling a little and snoring a lot.

Harry went through his bag and fished out the brain book. It was pretty quite. He started the meditation exercise again. In his head he sat in the empty room and listened to his own breathing. 

_In         Out            In                   Out                                            In                                             Out_

He felt strangely peaceful and weightless. The book had said to slowly imaging the furniture back into the room, but instead Harry felt himself drifting towards where the door would be. He imagined himself opening the door, his eyelids still closed. He heard the fire crackle, and faintly Hermione's snoring.  He drifted toward the heat of the fire, still feeling completely relaxed. His eyes opened.

He saw himself. He was sitting on the couch in front of the fire. His hand rested limply on top of the book. His eyes were open and staring blankly. Harry stared back into his own blank gaze. _I must be dreaming this._

There were foot steps on the stairs. Slowly and groggily Ron stumbled into the common room. Ron looked around the room and growled.

"I'm the only one with common sense."

Harry watched as Ron shook Hermione's shoulder. She sat up with a start, and rubbed her eyes.

"Oh, what time is it?" she mumbled.

"You've got some…" Ron went to wipe her chin with the sleeve of his nightshirt. Hermione jumped back a bit, eyes widening.

Her own hand went to the unfortunate excess of saliva. She blushed, noticing the rather large puddle on her runes assignment.

"Why don't you go wake up Harry?" she said.

Ron obeyed, and Harry watched intently as his friend went over to inspect the other Harry sitting on the couch.

"I think something's wrong with him!" Ron called.

He waved his hand in front of couch Harry's eyes. _As dreams go this is getting very strange_, Harry thought. Hermione leaned in as well. She shook couch Harry's shoulder and he tipped over. The book slid from his lap. She gave a little scream. Ron stretched out a shaking hand and felt couch Harry's neck for a pulse.

"He's alive," Ron said after a tense moment.

"I'll get Dumbledore," Hermione said.

"Hang on a minute," said Ron, taking his wand from his pocket.

"Ron that's not a good idea…" she started to say, but Ron was already casting the spell.

_"Ennervate!"___

Harry felt a sudden tug, almost like a port key. He blinked looked up into Ron's concerned face. He was tipped over on his side and his book lay on the floor, just as he had dreamed. _Only it wasn't a dream,_ he thought sitting up.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked. "Any idea what hit you?'

Harry shook his head. "I'm ok, I think I hit myself."

Hermione leaned over and picked up the book. "Maybe you shouldn't work on this right now," she said, flipping through the pages.

Harry reached over and took the book back. "Yeah I think its time to quit for the night."  He started up the stairs for the boy's dorm, before Hermione could start lecturing him.

"That's not what I meant!" she called.

            The candles flickered, though the air was still. He muttered the words and let another drop of dragon's blood fall onto the intricately carved stone tablet. It hissed faintly as it splattered, and there was an answering hiss from the snake in the far corner of the room. Nagini had watched the entire process with far more interest then a snake should have concerning translations. Lucius Malfoy did his best to ignore the bright yellow eyes that followed his every move.

            The encoding spells the covered the tablet were more complex then any he had previously attempted to decipher. The Dark Lord had sent the tablet to one of his subjects in Romania, Nadezhda Ulyanovskaya, a few months before his fall. Said subject had been murdered rather gruesomely eight years ago and the tablet had been lost among squabbling inheritors.

            Malfoy had never actually met Ulyanovskaya, but her reputation had proceeded her. It was rumored even pure blood's hid their children indoors when she passed near their homes. The Dark Lord had not given a single clue as to the nature of the tablet, but Malfoy suspected it was the basis for Ulyanovskaya's experiments. It had something to do with stealing the powers of magical creatures and transferring them to a wizard.

Evan Rosier was the emissary between her and the Dark Lord. Though the man's loyalty was unquestionable, he did like to brag about his inclusion in such important research.  He'd been charged with gathering Phoenix, Veelas, vampires, and underworld serpents; all creatures which defied mortal ageing.  Malfoy suspected the Dark Lord had used them in his attempts to gain immortality.

            Thirty seven drops of Dragon's blood later, the tablet gave off a massive blast of acrid smoke. Malfoy quickly fanned it away, revealing the tablet's last entry, in pristinely carved English.

            **Trial 1254:** Successful.

**Procedure:** Gamma, including both transfigurative and surgical alterations.

**Subjects:**    1 Wraith, in good condition, without magical alteration.

                   1 witch, age 6, moderate health, Imperious Curse in effect.

Before he could read further Nagini reared up before him, hissing dangerously. He had only a fraction of a second to snatch his hands out of the way before the snake lunged forward and swallowed the stone tablet in one uncomfortable gulp. It slithered away, the tablet obviously jammed in its throat. Malfoy sat back in his chair, considering.  

            Remus woke to sounds of laughter and poorly hushed shouts of encouragement. It took him ten muddled minutes to find his shoes and get them on the correct feet. It was nearly noon. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He'd gone to bed early the previous night, but managed to sleep through half of Friday anyway. _Maybe I've got dragon pox again_, he thought as he headed for the kitchen.        

            Molly Weasley and Hestia Jones sat at the table giggling like oxygen deprived school girls at a man beside the stove. Remus went for his wand but the man turned towards him and said "Wotcher Remus!" in a familiar feminine voice. The man closed his eyes, brow wrinkling up.  A moment latter Nymphadora Tonks stood before him with painfully pink hair.

            "Good to see you're up and about," she said. "I was just trying out my disguise for this evening. I'm off to join the minions of you-know-who in their noble mission to rid the world impure blood."

            Remus nodded and made his way to the pantry, looking for the tea he'd hidden behind the jars of sauerkraut that no one would touch. Someone had raided his stash, but there was still one bag left. He boiled the water and poured himself a cup with only a few minor scalds. Molly, Hestia, and Tonks were all exchanging looks, and Remus was aware of the silent argument about who would go first. Molly lost.

            "Remus we were wondering…That is to say we're concerned. You've been so quiet since you got back. Is something wrong? Did something happen while you were stranded? Dumbledore's been unusually tight lipped about how you got back."

            Remus sighed. He had come up with a cover story. It was not exactly a work of creative genius. He didn't like to be the but of jokes, even if he was the one making them. The three women continued to stare at him though, so he decided to get it over with.

            "I asked him not to give away too many details, as the entire incident is embarrassing and I fully intend to take it to the grave with me. Let's just say that it involved hitchhiking, and it wasn't until the third ride that I managed to negotiate my way to some pants."

            "Oh!" said Molly, blushing bright red. "Oh my." Her jaw was clenched tightly, trying to hold back an explosion of giggles.

            Remus nodded, and drank some tea. He knew Molly wouldn't ask again, especially after she "heard the door bell," and fled. Hestia followed her a minute later with a slightly more controlled expression. Laughter echoed up the hall as soon as she was out of sight. Tonks looked at him sympathetically, and then smirked a bit.

            "I get to hear the rest of the story some day right?" she said.

            "Only if you pay for all twenty pints," he responded.

            "I'd best get going. The man whose identity I'm barrowing is about to take his lunch break. It's good that you're alright."

            She patted him on the back as she walked out the door.

            "Thanks Tonks," he called after her.

            The rest of the day went by almost without incident, though Molly Weasley couldn't look at him without having to bite back giggles. He suspected under less stressful circumstances the bit of humor in his story would have died out in the first few hours. He blamed overwrought nerves for her three outbursts during dinner.

            He'd spent most of the afternoon thinking about the card. Dumbledore seemed to have implied that he should go to the meeting, but he had said Remus could take the weekend off. _Why can't he just be literal_? He supposed he could just not go. He hadn't been ordered to. It was a suggestion really. He had a gut feeling that anymore contact with the muggles would end in disaster and long prison sentences.

            After dinner he sat down by the stove. He'd found the address for the Turn Up Club, in the muggle phone listings. According to the advertisement, it was some sort of Techno Dance Club, with three D.J.s. He had absolutely no idea what that meant. He looked at the clock. 8:14. In another two hours the decision would be moot. He put his head down, and wondered how he ended up in situations like this.

            They'd broken all the windows. The doors hung wide open and bodies lay sprawled on the castle steps. The air reeked with sulfur and smoke. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the grounds were ablaze. Among the flickering flames shadowy figures roamed. Some wore white skull masks, and others floated above the searing ground, drawing rattling breaths of the cloying air.   Remus felt no concern or fear. As the black dog appeared in the entrance of Hogwarts he knew it was another dream.

            He climbed the stairs. Snape's eyes were open and staring, as were McGonagall's. Kingsley Shacklebolt was the only one who appeared at peace, but he always did. Only the blood soaking through his robes gave away that he was not asleep. As he reached the top, the dog turned and Remus followed. The doors of the Great Hall lay open as well.

            The tables were turned on their sides and the floor was scattered with plates and food and unmoving children. Voldemort sat in the Headmaster's chair. A large dark bundle of cloth lay at his feet. Remus approached without hurry. He bent down and turned the bundle over. Harry Potter's pale scarred face looked up at him. The boy took a rattling breath and blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He whispered something that Remus couldn't make out. He leaned in closer.

            "What did you say?" he asked.

            The boy spoke again. He still couldn't understand.

            "Say it louder!" Remus said desperately.

            Harry's blazing green eyes bored into him. His mouth began to move. "Did you want pudding? We're all having some in the parlor."

"What?"

He sat up with a start. Molly Weasley stood in front of him with a plate of chocolate cake in one had and a tea tray balanced in the other.

"I asked if you want to join us for pudding, dear?"

Remus rubbed his eyes again. "No! No thank you Molly," he said. _Could that have been any more ambiguous? _he thought angrily at the phantasmal dog.

As Molly left the kitchen he glanced at the clock. 9:15. He sighed and started up the stairs to the attic. The Order must have some Techno Dance appropriate muggle clothing.


	18. Four Left Feet

Disclaimed

Author's note: Super long chapter! Feed back appreciated. Ack! Evil computer. Path not valid? That sucks! Grrr. Ok rant over, sorry. On with the story.

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 18: Four Left Feet**

            At first glance things did not look so bad. If someone on the street were to peer in a window, (though they wouldn't because of the charms), they would see a group of mostly men, laughing, drinking and chatting amicably. There was a bit of smoke in the air from numerous pipes, but it was hardly noticed amid the smells of a well stocked and expensive buffet that wafted across the crowd. No one wore masks or praised He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. To really understand it, one had to listen closely.

            Tonks swallowed. The mustache was driving her insane, but she did not let herself scratch it. She had observed William Lockwood for almost forty eight hours. _I can do this. I'm an Auror. I can do this_. She swallowed again._ If I stand in the corner all night they'll know. Besides, less then half of them are initiated Death Eaters. _She checked her pockets one last time for her emergency portkey to Hogwarts, her only way out of the anti-disapparation wards. _Here goes nothing._

            Lockwood approached a group talking about the mud-bloods they'd like to see fired. Lockwood picked up a tanker of mead, though he drank very little of it. Lockwood guffawed at a crude joke about what mud-bloods thought their wands were for, and told his own, which came to the conclusion that it took five mud-bloods to light a candle. If anyone thought Lockwood was behaving oddly they did not mention it.

            Two hours went by, and Tonks started to believe this mission would go off without a hitch. Then a masked Death Eater appeared on the small stage at the far end of the hall. 

            "Pure Bloods!" he called.

            Immediately the hall was silent. Tonks slowly worked her way towards the stage.

            "I thank you for coming and supporting our noble cause!"

            "We thank you for the mead!" called a wise ass in the back of the crowd.

            There was a bit of laughter, but it died down quickly. The crowed was possessed of a nervous anticipation that made Tonks rest her hand on her wand.

            "It's time for the entertainment to begin."

            The Death Eater stepped to the side and waved to someone in the shadows at the back of the stage. A door creaked open and two more masked Death Eaters strode out. Between them walked a terrified woman and a small boy, no older then six. The crowd surged forward, pressing as close as they could to the stage.  The woman wore muggle clothes but something about her seemed very familiar to Tonks. The little boy was nearly fused to her arm and his mouth soundlessly repeated the word "mommy" over and over again.

The lead Death Eater nodded. One of his companions grabbed the boy and tore him violently from his mother's arm. The child let out a wail of dismay and the mother tried to follow him, but blue light knocked her off her feet. The boy was carried out through the door at the back of the stage.

"Get up," the Death Eater said to the woman.

She climbed to her feet. Her eyes darted about.

"Muggle, do you remember what you were told earlier?" the Death Eater asked.

The woman nodded. "You said if I could do something entertaining, my son and I could go," she said in a very small voice.

"Have you thought of something entertaining to do?" the Death Eater asked. The sneer in his voice was audible.

"I…I can…tap dance," the woman said, ringing her hands. Her eyes went to the door they'd taken her son through.

"That's not quite what we meant."

As the sickening little show held the crowds attention, Tonks worked her way over to the buffet table. She ducked under it and pulled out her mirror.

"Molly Weasley!" she whispered onto the cool glass surface.

Nothing happened. The wards were blocking mystical communication as well.

She could take the portkey back to Hogwarts and get the rest of the Order, but that would take nearly an hour. Tonks was fairly sure the woman would not last that long. There was also the possibility of more prisoners back stage.  Tonks didn't think about it very long. She knew if she did, she'd realize what a bad idea it was. She tapped her wand to her forehead and disillusioned herself.

The crowd's attention was still focused on the stage, where the terrified woman tried to tap dance while dodging curses and drinks that the men below tossed at her. Tonks slid into the shadows at the side of the stage. A Death Eater stood to the right of the door. She'd have to walk between him and the involuntary dancer to get to it, and a disillusion charm was not the same as a cloak of invisibility. Tonks was thinking about crawling past on her hands and knees when the muggle woman slipped and fell. Instead of standing back up she threw her arms over her head and curled up in a ball. The Death Eaters rushed towards her. Tonks darted through the door.

A hall lead off the back of the stage, and Tonks slipped along it. The shouts of the crowd died away. She could hear other sounds now. Weeping and a low voice, muttering. The hall ended in a single room, the door to which hung open. Half the room was comprised of a large cage. Three teenage girls in short skirts huddled together at the farthest corner of it. They'd probably been on their way to a club. An orange haired girl was crying. A girl with cornrows looked shell shocked. A girl with short black hair glared at the three Death Eaters leering at them through the bars.

The little boy was not locked in with the others. He lay on the floor a few feet away, his eyes staring blankly at nothing. For a moment Tonks thought they'd killed him, but he twitched slightly as one of the Death Eaters took a step towards him.

Tonks raised her wand and crept up behind the men leering into the cage. They were standing close enough for one shot to take them both, but the third one was too far. He'd have time to fire at least one curse at her. _On three then_, she thought. _One…two…two and a half…_

"STUPEFY!"

The red light sprayed over the two men and they dropped heavily against the bars of the cage. She threw herself aside as a green light blasted a hole in the floor. She rolled and came up on her feet. The Death Eater brought his arm up in a slashing motion but Tonks dove under the curse, firing another stupefy up into his face. The Death Eater collapsed. She hopped upright looking back at the door, but no one was rushing up the hall way toward her.

"Who's there?" called the glaring girl in the cage. She pulled her two friends to their feet.

Tonks shook off the disillusionment charm and William Lockwood's form as well. They goggled at her. Tonks tapped the door of the cage with her wand.

"Alohamora!"

It sprang open, but the girls made no move towards it.

"Come on!" Tonks said waving at them.

"Who are you?" the glaring girl repeated.

Tonks bent over the little boy.

"Finite," she whispered, lifting whatever hex the poor kid had been hit with.

"I'm Tonks," she said, helping the little boy stand up, "And we are all going to be very dead if we don't get out of here very quickly."

She fished the Hogwarts portkey out of her pocket. It was an old watch with a broken band.

"Come here, quick please."

The three girls came towards her.

"Ok, here's how this works. Everybody put a finger on the watch," Tonks put it in the glaring girl's hand, and waited until they each had. "This is going to send you to my old school. The teachers there are really nice people and they'll make sure you get home alright. I'd appreciate it if you could tell the Headmaster that Tonks could really use some back up."

"What about my mum?" the little boy asked.

"I'm going to get her in one second, but it would make this whole daring rescue thing a lot easier if we knew you were somewhere safe."

"I want my mum," he said again.

"She'll be along in a minute," Tonks said.

When they all had a finger on the portkey Tonks tapped it with her wand. The four muggles disappeared.

_Four down, one to go.___

She pulled off all the Death Eater's masks and got a good look at them, as she probably wouldn't be able to make an arrest that night. The least slimy mask went over her own face and she pulled up the hood of her black cloak. Her plan was simple from then on. She'd knock out all the lights, disillusion the muggle woman, shout "Aurors are coming," and then sneak the woman out in the following chaos. 

            The first hitch in the plan came up immediately.

            "Nox!" she shouted at the top of her voice. For an instant the hall was completely pitch black, but the lights came back on immediately. The two Death Eaters on the stage trained their wands on her and the rest of the crowd just stared.

            "Oh hell," she muttered. "REDUCTO!"

            The red light that flew from her wand blasted away half the stage and sent the two Death Eaters flying. The muggle woman dove off the stage, only to be caught by the crowd. Tonks waded in after her.

            "Immobulous!"

            Her spell flew out and froze half the crowd in their tracks. She pulled the woman out of their hands, slapped her with a quick "Finite!" and rushed for the door. The Death Eaters had regained their feet, but the crowd around them was too thick to get a clear shot at the fleeing women.  Tonks blasted open the doors of the hall.

            "Wait! My son!" the woman called, trying to pull away.

            "I sent him to Hogwarts, already!" Tonks gasped, dragging the woman up the steps.

            A green light splashed across the wall above their heads.

            "The school?" the woman asked as the skidded out of the alley, and sprinted up the street.

            "Are you a witch?" Tonks gasped, pulling them both out of the way of another curse.

            "My husband is a wizard," she said.

            Tonks slipped in a puddle and the woman dragged her back to her feet. They ducked behind a dumpster.

            "I'm Tonks by the way," she whispered, holding out her hand.

            The woman shook it. "Annie Chapman."

            The dumpster exploded.

            The line wrapped all the way around the block, and after twenty minutes of waiting he wasn't anywhere near the door. Though he was far from the most strangely dressed person in the line, Remus was sure he was getting more then his fair share of disapproving looks. It was one of Sirius' old outfits. Sirius was always hanging out in muggle night clubs, and frequently managed to drag the three other Marauders along. He remembered seeing muggles dressed in clothes like this, though that was nearly twenty years ago. As a man in leather pants and a shirt made out of netting walked passed, Remus examined his own attire once again.

            He'd had to transfigure it a bit, as it was much too tight in some of the more personal areas. He'd wanted to take in the cloth around the calves and ankles, but he remembered something about bellbottoms being fashionable, so he left them alone. _Powder blue really isn't my color either_, he mused as a woman in a vinyl body suit squeaked past. _Maybe I should have worn the platform shoes. _

            He checked his pocket watch again. It was ten past ten. He nearly dropped the watch as an arm slid around his waist. He looked over in surprise at an unfamiliar woman in a very tight, very short red dress that supplied far too little insulation for standing around outside in early November.

            "Hey sweetheart," she said.

            "Hello," he said as politely as he could, trying unsuccessfully to return the aforementioned arm.

            She didn't seem to want it back. He tried to sort of twist away from her, but she hung on.

"It's not that I'm offended Miss, but I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

She just smiled at him. "No, I'm sure you're you."

Remus looked at her more carefully. She was in her mid twenties, and tall with dark brown hair. He still couldn't place her. He figured she was trying to cut the line.

"Miss I'm waiting for someone else and they might be a bit put off if they see me standing with you."

The woman didn't look at him as she spoke, but the corner of her mouth was turned up in a faint grin. "No worries Mr. Lupin, Lim isn't the jealous type."

His eyes darted about, searching the street for other observers.

"No need to get jumpy," she said. "She was just a bit concerned you wouldn't get by the bouncers."

"What's a bouncer?"

"See those two massive blokes on either side of the door? They don't let just anyone in. A club's gotta' maintain its reputation you know."

Remus shrugged, looking up and down the street again.

They continued to move forward at pace of dead snail.  It took them another thirty minutes to get to the front of the line. By that time the woman was wearing Remus coat, and his teeth were chattering loudly. He'd handed it over to her after she complained about being cold, though it was a struggle not to recommend that next time she put on some clothes before going outside. As they got closer, he notices a faint vibration in the cement beneath his feet. He fought the urge to turn back. He was trying to quantify the numerous bad feelings he had about the situation when they finally reached the single entrance to the Turn-Up Club. Above the door hung a neon sign shaped like a turnip with the club's name inside it, glowing blue. The bouncers gave him a quick once over.

"Are you sure you wouldn't be happier going somewhere else?" said one of the huge men.

Both were snickering slightly.

"Most likely," Remus answered coolly, "But I'm meeting someone here."

They looked as if they were going to turn him away but the woman, whose arm had not relinquished its hold on his waist, leaned toward the towering man on the left.

"Lim says hi, Erik," she said in a voice so low the other bounce couldn't hear.

Remus might have missed it too, if not for his condition. Erik the bouncer's face paled. He waved them through. Remus tried to hand over the five pounds cover but the man wouldn't take it. He drew back as if he feared the slips of paper would burn him. The woman pushed through the door, pulling him along as he found his feet starting to drag.

The sound was too much for him, though the smells were a close second. He pressed his hands to his ears and tried to go back out, but the woman dragged him forward. He was tempted to stun her and run, but he'd have to expose his poor ears to get to his wand. His whole head rang with the pulsing sounds. Lights blinked on and off. He stumbled into a wall as they moved deeper into the building.

He'd been to muggle clubs before but they were nothing like this. The building looked like a factory, but instead of textiles, it produced bad dancing. There were numerous raised platforms, all covered with people, jumping, wiggling, and waving their arms to the terrible pulses of sound that were attempting to be music. A series of steps led down into a pit full of people, and when Remus realized the woman was leading him there he tried to turn back again, but could no longer find the exit. They pushed through a sea of moving bodies, and eventually made it through the pit to another staircase. It led to another platform that was not nearly so crowded. A few small tables surrounded a bar, were people were lined up once more, this time for plastic cups of liquor.

The woman led him to an occupied table right at the edge of the platform. There were no railings, and it was a ten foot drop to the pit below. The occupant of the table wore a red tunic over black pants. A black scarf covered her head and snaked around her neck and chin.  Red tinted glasses obscured her eyes. Remus sat down in the chair across from her, his hands still covering his ears.

The woman who brought him there held out her hand to Lim, and received a roll of money. She took off Remus' coat and settled it on the back of his chair, then disappeared back into the crowd. Lim leaned across the table, holding out two funny little lumps of plastic, one of which had a few bits of metal sticking out of it. He looked at her in confusion. She pulled back the edge of her scarf, revealing an ear that must've had more then twenty gold rings pierced through it. It took him a moment to realize she had a lump of plastic stuffed in there too.

Remus took the objects and quickly stuffed them in his ears own ears. Immediately the horrible noise of the club was reduced to a tolerable background thrum, though the vibrations of it still rattled his teeth a bit. He was about to ask Lim how they were supposed to conduct a meeting under these conditions when her voice buzzed in his left ear.

"You don't look like you're having any fun sweetheart. You want a drink?"

He shook his head, though he really did.  He figured there was some kind of muggle machine inside the ear plug. He didn't know how she was going to be able to hear him, but he asked anyway.

"Why here?"

She smiled faintly.

"Mostly because it's not easy to find somebody in here. If you'd brought uninvited guests, I'd be long gone by now. Plus there's a show starting soon that I guarantee you won't want to miss. Mind if I look at your leg?"

"What…?"

 She leaned around the table and caught hold of his right ankle. Before he knew what was happening he found his chair tipped back on two legs, and her iron grip on his ankle was the only thing that kept him from tipping the rest of the way. She pushed up the powder blue cuff, looking for the huge gash she'd bandaged for him less then a week before. Only the faintest white line showed that it had ever been there. She traced the line with the fingers of her free hand, as if she didn't trust her eyes.

Remus leaned forward, trying to catch the edge of the table so he could pull himself upright again. He looked around but no one else seemed to be paying attention. Not that he was any less embarrassed. After a few more seconds of inspecting she let go. His chair landed back on all four legs with a thump. He glared at her, but she didn't' seem to notice.

"That's fairly amazing," she said. "Most paper cuts don't clear up that neatly."

Remus shrugged. "I thought we were here to trade information on Death Eaters," he said pointedly.

"Of course we are, Love. Skipping the small talk then."

She reached under the table and brought out another file folder. This one was filled with crude hand drawn maps and sketches. Remus paged through them. The maps were marked with dates and labeled Reapers, Black Outs, or others. There was a picture drawn in crayon of a huge cloaked figure with long spindly fingers reaching for a group of people.

"We got that one from a little girl, said she could see them coming."

Remus nodded. The girl was probably a muggle born witch. "Some of us can."

Lim looked thoughtful. "That should make the show even more interesting then."

"Who drew the picture?" Remus asked.

"I can't tell you that sweetheart. It's confidential."

"That girl could be in danger. If she's one of us, she's our responsibility."

"Whereas a normal kid in a Dementor infested area is not?"

"That isn't the same."

"I thought we were here to trade information on Death Eaters," Lim said, turning to the next page of the folder.

A map with hundreds of little x's marked Reaper covered the page. The Reapers also had little numbers by their names, and a few were underlined with red.

"I've got people watching hot spots all over the city, but when the Reapers go out into the residential areas it's harder to track them. Most of the time, they're gone before I can get a significant force together to deal with them. Most of the time innocent people end up dead. I'd like to set up a line of communication. I call you, you pass along the information to your police force, or whoever is in charge of rounding up maniacs, and they go about rounding up the maniacs. It's not that complicated really."

"I don't work for the 'police' and they wouldn't put much stock in information I sent them."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a…I'm not trusted."

She opened her mouth as if she were going push for more information, but something over his shoulder caught her eye.

"You said some of your kind can see Dementors?" 

He nodded.

"Be a dear and tell me what's going on down there then."

Remus whirled. In the flashing lights and strange sounds it took him a moment to pick out what she was referring to. Then he saw.

In the center of the pit below them, the dancing had mostly come to a halt. A circle of clear space appeared around a man. For an instant Remus thought the man was dancing with someone in a long black cloak, but then long gray hands wrapped around the man's head. The hood of the cloak fell, revealing the slimy mass of tissue that passes for a dementor's head. Remus pulled his wand but it was too late. The man's arms and legs spasmed.   The creature released him. The man fell to the floor. As people rushed in to inspect the now soulless man, the Dementor glided up over their heads, disappearing among the shadows of the club's towering ceiling.      

Remus looked back at Lim. She was watching him passively.

"Is…does…does that happen often?" he asked.

"Three or four times a night on weekends. The paramedics drag them off to the hospital. The popular theory is that they're overdosing on some new drug, but they've yet to find a trace of anything in the tox-screen. So sweetheart what did you see? And you might want to put that away," she said pointing at his wand.

"That happens every night?"

"Every night the club is open."

"Oh Merlin," he muttered. That would most definitely explain the sudden increase in the dementor population. Where were the Aurors? There were supposed to be dark detectors all over the major muggle cities watching for this sort of thing. He felt cold, and his eyes went toward the ceiling once more.

_"We can still reach him--"_

_"He hasn't gone!"_

_"Sirius!"___

Harry's desperate voice echoed in his ears as the dementor passed over head. It did not attack anyone, but those it came near paled and grew silent. The creature moved on and the patrons of the club shook off the momentary discomfort the evil entity created. After a moment Remus shook it off as well. Lim watched him, looking completely unaffected.

"Why do people come in here?" Remus asked amazed.

A second dementor floated down over the crowd, feeding off the emotions of the people below. They didn't seem to care, lost in the pounding sounds and the crush of bodies around them.

"It's a very exclusive club," Lim said.

Remus was gathering his thoughts when a strange large man stumbled up to their table. His face was red and he was sweating under a heavy jacket. His nose was crooked from numerous poorly healed breaks. His jutting jaw and heavy brows gave him a cave man sort of appearance and his buzz cut hair showed off a scarred scalp.

"Lim, You gorda come right now! They're &%#$ing burn 'in down half a St. Claries and …"

"How long ago Hooligan?" she interrupted him.

"I got the call just now," he said, holding out a mobile phone as proof.

"Right then, go round up the bikes, Love. We'll be up in a minute."

Hooligan peered suspiciously at Remus, then nodded and disappeared back into the crowd.

"Feeling up to the encore?" Lim asked him.

            The five Gryffindors sat in a circle on the second floor landing of the astronomy tower. Every once in a while a pair of students would scoot up the steps past them, but they had a deck of cards and a pile of poker chips as an alibi, and the Marauder's Map gave them all the advanced warning they needed.

            "So is everyone concentrating?" Hermione asked.

            They nodded or mumbled yes.

            "Segundo verto veritas." Hermione said.

            "Segundo verto veritas." They repeated. "Segundo verto veritas. Segundo verto veritas. Segundo verto veritas."

            They chanted together, trying to activate the Verto potion. The book had instructed them to keep their minds open and wait for the feeling of their second true form to over take them. Though they were supposed to keep their eyes closed, Harry kept peeking at his friends. Ron looked like he was really into it. Every few seconds his skin would glow with the strange blue light it had taken on when he first drank the potion. No one else was having much success. Neville's forehead was so wrinkled in concentration that he looked pained. Harry was a little worried. He hadn't glowed at all according to the others, he just convulsed. Hermione swore if it happened again, they'd turn themselves in.

            Harry's eyes wandered to the Marauder's Map. No one was coming up the stairs, and Filch was lurking in the greenhouses. Suddenly a key appeared in front of the gates of the school. A second later the key faded away, replaced by four dots. Only one of them was labeled; Marcus Chapman.

            "Look at this!" Harry said, breaking everyone's concentration.

            After frowning at him they gathered around.

            "Who do you think they are?" Ginny asked.

            "I don't know," Ron said. "Look there, Hagrid's about to catch them."

            They watched the dot labeled Rubeus Hagrid, and another dot labeled Fang, approach the new cluster of dots, who momentarily froze, then went tearing up the steps of the school.

            "Maybe we should check this out," Harry said.

            They'd landed on wet grass in front of huge gates. In the faint moon light, Marcus could see two stone pigs decorating the pillars on either side of the thick iron bars. He looked at the three girls. They hadn't landed very well and had a lot of mud on them.

            "Are you alright?" asked the girl with spiky black hair.

Marcus nodded. 

"I'm Alicia."

Marcus nodded again.

"That's Jolie," she said pointing to the girl with cornrows and a hundred copper bracelets on each arm. "And that's Mary." She pointed to the crying girl with fake looking orange hair.

"I'm Marcus," he finally said.

"Do you know where we are?"

"The lady said we were going to a school," he answered.

Suddenly the gates swung open with a huge groan.

"Should we go in?" Jolie asked.

"I don't see anything but ruins," Alicia said, squinting in the darkness.

"There's a castle," Marcus said.

He could see lights coming from some of the high windows.

"Where?"

He pointed, but they needed glasses or something because they kept squinting and asking him dumb questions about how far away it was, and could he see any people.

"We can't wait here forever," Alicia said. "Lets go."

She pulled the others to their feet, though Mary tried to sit down again, and wouldn't stop crying. With Marcus in the lead they marched up the lawn. Marcus thought they should sit where they landed and wait for his mom, but Alicia was older, so she was in charge. They were almost to the steps when a booming voice echoed around them.

"Hey! Hold it there! Yer not spose' ta be out on the grounds this late!"

The voice came from a huge man, who was coming towards them quickly, with a crossbow in his hand. At his side a huge dog barked. Mary screamed and they ran. The doors of the castle opened as Jolie and Alicia slammed into them. They looked around stunned.

"Where'd this come from?" Alicia asked awed.

Another bark from the dog sent them running again. Marcus couldn't keep up. He called for them to wait, and Alicia came back for him, but the others disappeared into the maze of staircases and hallways. Alicia called after them but they didn't answer. They heard more running feet. Alicia grabbed his arm and pulled him down a staircase. It was cold, dark, and wet down there. Marcus wanted to leave but Alicia said it would be easier to hide. After creeping along forever they finally stopped by a suit of armor. There was a space behind it, and Alicia told him to climb in. He did.

"Alright. You stay here. Don't come out for anything. I'm going to find a phone and call the police. You stay put and be very quiet alright?"

He nodded.

"I'll be back soon." She put her finger to her lips and shushed him one more time, then went back up the hall.

He tried to be quiet, but his heart was so loud, and he was sure people could hear him breathing a mile away. He wanted his mother. Dad hadn't come back from work two weeks ago and now those people took his mum. His throat hurt. He clamped his hands over his mouth so he wouldn't make noise, but somebody heard him crying.

That somebody giggled. He looked up. A see-through man was floating above his head, grinning down at him.

"Has Peeves found himself a poor lost little firsty?" it asked.

Marcus screamed and forgot about hiding.

Alicia crept up the steps. She could hear voices in the huge hall, and peeked around the corner. A stern looking woman in a long flowing dress was talking to a heavy set woman in a bathrobe. She backed up, but she knew she'd have to cross the hall eventually. There weren't any phones in any of the other rooms she'd been able to get into. They must be upstairs. She strained to hear them.

"…muggles in the school.  Poor things. Hagrid must have frightened them half out of their wits."

"I'm more concerned about how they got here. What fool is leaving portkeys lying around?"

Suddenly five teenagers charged down the steps across the hall from her. She pressed herself against the wall trying to avoid notice.

"Potter! All of you! Get back to the common room now!"

"But Professor!"

"I'll not here a word of it Ms. Granger! Go or you'll all receive detention!"

Alicia scooted back down the stairs as foot steps approached her. A short teenage boy with messy black hair, glasses, and red paint on his forehead stepped onto the stairs in front of her. He looked a bit surprised. After a quick glance at an old bit of parchment in his hand he said hello nervously.

"Hey," Alicia replied.

"Potter!" The woman in the long dress came to the top of the steps as well. Her eyes immediately fell on Alicia.

"Well, come out of there. We don't have time for all this foolishness," the woman said.

Her voice was so much like that of Alicia's middle school principle she found herself obeying without question. She followed the woman and the messy haired teen into the center of the huge hall. The woman in the bathrobe stared at Alicia in surprised and a tall boy with red hair stared at her legs. There was a lot of the suspicious staring until the stern woman spoke again.

"How did you get here?"

Alicia swallowed. These people did not seem cruel or threatening, but a couple of them held those strange sticks in their hands, like the men in the masks had.

"I ain't saying nothing until the police get here," she said trying to sound sure of herself.

"Ain't is not proper English and you have used a double negative," the woman said, assuring Alicia that this was indeed a school of some sort. "Now it is important that we know how you arrived, and from where, so that we may send you back. What is your name?"

"I ain't…I'm not going to tell you. You could be working for them."

"Working for who?"

"Those men in the skull masks."

"Death Eaters?" asked a boy with a round friendly face and shaggy brown hair.

She shrugged.

Suddenly the boy called Potter shouted "Malfoy!" and took off down the stairs she'd just come from. The red haired boy and girl took off after him.

            Harry sprinted towards the dudgeons with the Marauder's Map in his left hand and his wand in the right. Dumbledore might think it was safe to let Malfoy walk about the school unsupervised and armed, but Harry knew better. He came to another short flight of stairs and jumped down. His trainers slapped loudly on the stone floor. He could hear Ginny and Ron running behind him, and cursing and crying up ahead.

            A group of Slytherins had someone cornered outside the potion's supply room. He'd seen all their names on the map. All seven of the students in front of him had parents in Voldemort's inner circle. Harry did not slow down as he came upon the group. He fired a stunning curse into their midst and plowed through. There were yelps of surprise and failed attempts to catch him, but he was going too fast. As he past Malfoy he threw an elbow, catching him in the side of the head.  He saw the boy then.

            Marcus Chapman could not have been more then five or six. He was crying and covered in mud. Harry whirled and put himself between the boy and the goons.

            "Is there a problem here?" he asked coolly, his wand aimed at Malfoy's pale pointed face.

            Harry jumped a bit in surprise as the boy grabbed the edge of his shirt. "They're going to kill me!" he wailed.  

            Malfoy smiled and started to speak but another voice cut him off.

"Don't worry!" called Ginny, skidding to a stop on the other side of the group. "They couldn't kill a fly. It's not that they wouldn't try, they just don't have the spell work for it."

The Slytherins looked to Malfoy for instructions, but just then Ron Weasley appeared in the hall behind his sister. They sized each other up. Harry knew the long and the short of what was going on in their heads. The Slytherins knew far more dark spells then the Gryffindors, but the Slytherins had never been in a real battle. The decision was rendered moot by the arrival of a panting Professor Sprout.

"Found…him, did…you?" she asked.

The Herbology professor took in the situation, but seemed to ignore the raised wands and hate filled glares.

"Well Potter…don't just stand…there. Bring him along."

Ron and Ginny raised their wands a bit to show they had Harry covered, should any of the Slytherins decide to curse despite the presence of a teacher. Harry nodded faintly in return. He bent down to take the little boy's hand but, quicker then he could speak the muddy child had attached himself to Harry's neck. He had to pick him up or strangle, so he chose the former. The Slytherins didn't move aside to let him past, so he shoved his way through, kicking shins whenever possible. When he was past Sprout spoke again, lung function fully recovered.

"Potter, Weasleys, up to Dumbledore's office. The rest of you, back to your common room, it's after curfew."

With that she turned and led the way. Harry marched after her and the Weasleys took up the rear.

            Remus hated motor bikes. He hadn't ridden on one in almost a decade, and though he didn't think it possible, this was even more uncomfortable then the last time. As usual he was the passenger. That did not bother him so much, as he would not try to pilot such a death trap on his own.  What bothered him was the change in design the bikes had undergone since his last traumatic experience. There was almost no wind screen, and the driver was practically lying on their belly while riding. There wasn't much space for a passenger. The seat sloped down so he kept sliding forward into Lim.  He tried to scoot back, but a second later he'd just slide forward again. Lim told him to quit wiggling every few blocks.

Her steering didn't make the journey any more pleasant either. They were traveling at an ungodly speed and she leaned so far into turns he was sure they were going to fall over. They weaved between other speeding cars and once she even cut across the sidewalk. Remus didn't pray on a regular basis, but he found he had a lot of words for the higher powers on that trip. When they finally skidded to a stop in an alley, his legs shook and his stomach was still trying to catch up with him. A moment later Hooligan skidded in behind them. He had a large black case strapped across the back of his bike.

Remus climbed off the bike and nearly fell over. Why muggles invented such painful forms of transport, he'd never understand. There was a sudden groan of metal and he turned. Lim and Hooligan were gone.

"Come on Love, we haven't got all night!" called a voice from above.

He looked up and saw them climbing a fire escape. He couldn't jump high enough to reach the bottom of the ladder and grudgingly accepted a hand up from Lim. The building was fairly large, eight stories tall, but it seemed abandon, as did most of the neighborhood around it. The roof provided an incredible view. He could see for at least a kilometer in every direction. Immediately flashing green lights caught his eye. He went to the edge of the roof and squinted. Six blocks away, and getting closer every second, were two figures fleeing a hail of curses.

Lim and Hooligan had opened the black case. Lim was taking out a rifle and Hooligan had a set of muggle binoculars. After a moment inspecting the fight, the hulking man handed them over to Remus. It took him another few seconds to figure out the focus. He got it working just in time to see Tonks struck down.

He may have shouted something. He wasn't sure. He was vaguely aware of the muggles staring at him as he pulled his wand and disapparated.

Tonks couldn't stop screaming. Annie grabbed her arms and tried to drag her to safety but the next crucio struck her, and then they were both writhing in agony. A boot struck her in the stomach, but Tonks barely noticed. She couldn't control herself. She felt her face wildly changing as if that would make things hurt less. Maybe a spastic Metamorphmagus was just funny. Their laughter echoed in her head.

Tonks was certain her head was about to explode when suddenly everything stopped. For a moment the whole world seemed to be standing still. She thought perhaps she was hallucinating, as the next thing she found herself able to focus on was the Death Eater flying through the air. Someone was speaking, but her ears were ringing too much for her to understand. A hand grabbed her wrist. With huge effort she turned and saw that Annie had crawled back over to her.

Then Remus walked by. She was almost sure it was a hallucination then, as he was dresses as a refugee from funky town. She knew she had to help and with Annie's assistance she managed to sit up and find her wand. Remus fired another blasting hex into the mob of dark wizards and they scattered, tripping over each other to get out of the way. Tonks aimed her wand at a Death Eater, but before she could speak there was a resounding crack. The man crumpled to the ground, and blood dribbled from a small round hole in the forehead of his mask.

She picked out another target. Her Stupefy sounded weak even to her own ears, but the man coming at Remus from the right fell with a satisfying thump. Another crack split the air, and a bit of brick work shattered above the remaining mob. Dust rained down on their heads. Tonks fired another stunning curse, but her arm shook so badly she nearly hit Remus in the back.   The cracking sound came again, three or four more times before the remains of the mob disapparated. Then they were alone in the street.

Tonks looked around. Seven of the men from the recruitment meeting lay unmoving. Remus checked them over, and then came to her side. He gave Annie his awful powder blue jacket.

"Did…they get to Dumbledore?"

"I don't know," Remus answered slightly nervously. "I came from somewhere else."

Tonks pulled on the flared leg of his trousers. "So I see." She tried to smile but it ended up a wince.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Don't know," Tonks answered.

It took Remus five minutes to get them both on their feet. Annie seemed in better shape, but Tonks nearly had to be carried. They had progressed nearly four meters when the Aurors arrived.   Remus looked toward the tall building where he'd left Lim and Hooligan, but he saw no sign of them. As an Auror handed the three of them a portkey to the Ministry, he was sure he could hear a pair of engines roar to life, and the distant squeal of tires.  

The door to Dumbledore's office was already opened. One of the armchairs had been stretched out into a long sofa, and three disheveled teenage girls sat upon it. They had been loaned Hogwarts school robes, as McGonagall found their attire far short for the sake of propriety. They were all sipping cups of tea as Professor Sprout and the Gryffindors marched in.

Dumbledore waved toward an armchair, indicating Harry should set Marcus down. Harry tried and failed. The little boy had wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, and his legs around the older boy's waist, and no matter how Harry extolled the virtues of the chair, the kid wouldn't let go. When Harry tried to pry him off, he started to wail for his mother. It took Harry several minutes to stop him yelling. Ginny tried to bribe him off with a biscuit from the tea tray, but that also failed. After several more minutes of prying and pleading, it was decided Harry would stay, and Ron and Ginny would return to Gryffindor tower, where Hermione and Neville had already been sent.

Harry sank into the armchair. Marcus adjusted himself so his legs would not get squished, but kept a tight grip on some portion of Harry at all times, in case somebody tried to pull him away. The Headmaster brought a small cup of tea and a few biscuits over for the boy, but Harry had to hold them, as the boy decided he had to grab onto Harry's neck until the Headmaster was back behind his desk.  

Harry was a bit surprised that the Headmaster had been unable to charm the kid, as most students couldn't stand in Dumbledore's presence for more then three seconds without being over come with the desire to behave themselves. The little boy refused to answer questions. He refused to do anything other then wail for his mother or cling to Harry like a gibbon.

The Ministry was called, and they insisted they would send someone to pick up the girls and return them home, but Harry checked his watch, and by two in the morning they still had not arrived. Harry tried to remove the boy several more times, but even in his sleep he had an iron grip. Harry finally gave up, and settled back in the chair. He set his glasses on the edge of the Headmaster's desk. The last thing he saw, as he let his eyes sink closed, was Dumbledore observing him, with a faintly sad look on his face.  


	19. Unwarrented

**Author's note:** Sorry it took forever and a day to update, I think I'll be able to work on this story more regularly now. Also, thanks to everyone who is still reading! Please don't forget to review.

**In Fire Lies Redemption**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 19: Unwarranted**

Harry woke up with a crick in his neck and someone else's drool on his shirt. Somebody had thrown a blanket over him and Marcus. He twisted around in the chair and saw the three muggle girls had been similarly equipped, and were still snoozing on the couch. He shifted a bit more and the kid started awake. For a moment they just stared at each other, noses inches apart. Harry was worried the kid was going to scream, but after a confused second he released the death grip he still had on Harry's neck and rubbed his eyes.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he mumbled.

Harry sat up and set the kid on the floor. Fawkes was still asleep on his perch and the sky outside was a sickly yellow green in preparation for dawn. The nearest bathroom Harry knew about was down two flights of stairs and one hall over. _There has to be a closer one_, he thought, patting down his pockets for the Marauder's Map. It wasn't there. For a second his brain was panicked and empty. "_It's gone!"_ was all he could think.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" Marcus repeated loudly.

The girls on the couch were starting to stir.

"We'll go in just one minute," Harry promised. "I just need to find something first. I must have dropped it. It's a piece of parchment about this big," he said holding up his hands to indicate size.

"I don't know where it is!" Marcus declared.

Harry nodded distractedly and went to the door, only to find it locked. He jiggled the handle to no avail. He supposed Dumbledore didn't want the muggles wandering all over the place. But when he took out his wand and tried Alohamora he found the Headmaster intended for him to stay put as well.

"I have to go!" Marcus cried and began doing a sort of panicked dance.

"Right, one more second!" Harry said. He rushed across the room to the door behind Headmaster Dumbledore's desk. It opened and he rushed Marcus in.

"Did you find the bathroom?" asked the dark haired girl as they came back into the room.

"Er…sort of," Harry said.

Fawkes gave him a disapproving look.

"So what exactly is going on here?" asked the dark haired girl, as Harry returned to his chair. Marcus immediately climbed into his lap.

"I wish I knew," said Harry honestly.

"Well who are you then?" she asked.

"Er…I'm Harry Potter."

"I'm Alicia, that's Jolie, that's Mary," Alicia said pointing at the girl with cornrows and the orange-haired girl respectively.

"Nice to meet you?" Harry ventured.

"Yeah. Right," said Alicia. "So where are we? That woman--Tonks?--said she was sending us to some school."

"You saw Tonks? Was she alright?" Harry asked.

"I don't know! She was jumping all over the place and turning invisible and blowing away guys in skull masks, is that alright with you guys?"

"For Tonks it is," Harry paused for a second to think. He wanted to give them some information, since in a similar situation he'd probably be bouncing off the walls, but the Ministry wasn't likely to forgive him if he went chatting away to muggles. They'd probably be obliviated anyway. "Geographically you're in Scotland," he started finally.

"My mum's gonna kill me!" wailed Mary dramatically.

"Shut up!" said Alicia. "How'd we get to Scotland?"

Harry shrugged. "How'd you run into Death Eaters to begin with?"

"Those guys in the masks?" asked Alicia. "We were in the queue out side WashOut-"

"What's a wash out?" Harry interrupted.

"Only the most exclusive club in the entire country!" exclaimed Mary. "We're never going to get another chance at that!"

"Priorities?" asked Jolie with a disbelieving look on her face.

"Anyway!" Alicia growled before continuing her tale. "We were in the queue and suddenly these guys in skull masks were standing next to us. One of them says 'You girls looking for a good time?' And of course we tell the wankers to get lost, but next minute there's this flash of red light and we wake up in a cage with those creeps yelling all sorts of horrible things at us. They dragged in the lady and kid about half an hour later then took them right back out again. Then they bring the kid back and he's crying."

Harry looked down at the kid in his lap, who was listening to the story as if it had nothing to do with him.

"The next thing we know there're lights going everywhere and guys falling down and then this guy appears, only then he turns into a woman and she lets us out of the cage and gives us a watch and then we end up on the lawn and this giant chases us and that old bat with the bun wound too tight drags us up here. Wouldn't let us make a phone call or anything."

"Phones don't work out here," said Harry in McGonagall's defense.

"Well then how do you call people?" asked Mary.

"You don't." Harry said with a shrug. "We're out here to avoid normal people, not talk to them"

"So what exactly are you?" Alicia asked glaring.

Harry shrugged. "What do you think I am?"

"I think this is all nuts and I want to wake up now!" Mary declared.

"I'm hungry," said Marcus, who was doing strange things to the knot in Harry's tie.

Harry pried the kid's fingers loose as he started to strangle. He got up and set Marcus in the chair.

"Anybody else hungry?" Harry asked, thinking the kitchens were probably a much better place to be at the moment. "What do you want?" he asked as the girls nodded.

"How are you going to get food if all the doors are locked?" Alicia asked, giving him a glare almost worthy of aunt Petunia.

He couldn't help the ends of his mouth quirking up as he spoke. "I'm going to stick my head in the fire and ask some elves to bring us up something."

"Whatever," Alicia said rolling her eyes.

"I'm having oatmeal, is that all right for everybody?" Harry asked.

"I want chocolate chip ice cream," Marcus said.

"That's not breakfast food," Harry said.

"I want sausage then, with pancakes and syrup."

"Right," said Harry.

He crossed the room, grabbed some floo powder, and tossed it into the embers in the Headmaster's fireplace. Green flames roared to life as he knelt down and stuck his head in, shouting "kitchen" as he went. He leaned to the side to avoid being clubbed with an iron kettle that was being pushed in to heat.

"Hey! Is Dobby here?" Harry called.

"Harry Potter! You should not be here!" Dobby shouted running up to the hearth.

"Sorry Dobby," he said, confused almost completely.

"Oh please don't be angry with Dobby sir! It is his orders from the Headmaster."

"Sorry, I didn't know. I was just trying to get some breakfast for the muggles in Dumbledore's office."

"Oh, Oh! Dobby will bring up breakfast immediately, but Harry Potter must go and not return. The kitchens is off limits for students from now on!"

"Alright, sorry Dobby. Thank you."

Harry pulled himself out of the fire, still confused, even as he wiped the soot off his glasses.

"You put your head in the fire!" Mary said, with her mouth hanging open.

Harry shrugged. Her reaction was twice as good when the elves arrived.

* * *

There were no doors, well not any longer. They had walked him into the room, one hulking Auror at each shoulder, and one in the lead. Remus had already turned over his wand, but they insisted on hitting him with another Expelliarmus and assorted searching spells anyway. It was a struggle to remain polite. When they were finished embarrassing him, they walked out and the door melted away, leaving him in a silence, surrounded by four blank walls. He tucked in his shirt and sat down in the rough wooden chair, the only furniture in the room. It was not equipped with shackles, but he stayed on the edge of the seat just in case. He wanted to put his head in his hands and groan, but that might look suspicious, and he knew they were watching him. He settled for a sigh.

Annie Chapman still had his jacket and he was starting to freeze. He thought that was a little unusual. Whenever a tale of interrogation was related to him, the recipient always complained about the unbearable heat of the room. He folded his arms across his chest, and tried not to think about anything in particular. He'd heard from Kingsley that the Aurors were not above pumping vaporized potions into the air, to "loosen up" the suspect, and he didn't want anything to leak out of his mind.

Two hours later, the door returned. A heavyset wizard with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth sauntered into the room. He acted, very believably, as though he just wanted to get something done. His shoulders were squared resolutely as he conjured a table into existence. He sighed as he conjured up a file folder. "Lupin, R. J. 5342-098-03" was printed neatly in the corner, and the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures was stamped in tan on the off-white parchment. The Auror conjured up a chair and sat down with a grunt. Despite his outward appearance of calm, Remus could smell fear.

"Remus Lupin?" the Auror asked.

Lupin inclined his head, and folded his hands on the table.

"I'm Auror Johnson. I apologize for all this, but with all this You-Know-Who business, we have to double check everything," he said, opening the file and paging through it as if for the first time. "You were certainly out late last night."

"I was at a club," Lupin said.

"A club?" Johnson asked mildly.

"It's a muggle name for a dance hall."

"You dance?"

"Not well," Lupin said. "I was meeting a muggle friend of mine there."

"Would he be willing to corroborate your story?"

"_She_ doesn't know I'm a wizard and I'd rather not drag _her_ into this."

The Auror shrugged. Muggle testimony never counted for much anyway.

"So what do you say happened?" The Auror asked, taking a fresh sheet of parchment from the folder and conjuring up a quill.

"I met a friend of mine at the Turn-up Club, about half past ten. We had a few drinks but I was getting a headache from all the noise so I begged off early. She stayed. I walked for a while, to clear up my head before Disapparating. I heard screaming and curses and went to investigate."

"You heard screaming from three kilometers away?" the Auror asked.

"I'd been walking for at least a half an hour. I don't think I was quite that far away."

"Still it's quite a distance."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I think the explanation is written in bold letters on the first page of my file."

"Lycanthropy, hmmmm, yes," Johnson paged through the file again. "Continue with your statement."

"I heard screaming and Apparated closer. I recognized Tonks. She and another woman were being pursued by a mob, some of whom were wearing Death Eater garb. Obviously the men chasing her were up to no good. I rendered assistance."

The Auror looked at him, as if expecting more details. Remus just looked back. The Auror pushed the parchment over to him. Remus read what the other man had written and signed the bottom.

"Nothing else you want to add?" Johnson asked.

Lupin shrugged. "That's what happened."

"We'll see," said Johnson.

Remus was left alone again. He wasn't sure for how long. They'd left the table in the room. He put his head down, just to rest his eyes, but realized that hadn't worked out when a fist slammed down on the table a few inches from his head.

"Sorry," said an unfamiliar voice. "Were we keeping you up?"

Remus felt the hair on his neck standing up, and couldn't choke back the snide response "Yes, actually."

The new Auror was standing over him. The man was about Remus height, but much bulkier. His face was unusually red, and his patchy beard was flecked with spit. The "bad cop" had arrived.

"Are you getting smart with me, Werewolf?"

"Smart in comparison to what?" Remus deadpanned, giving the Auror an appraising look.

The Auror threw the statement Remus had signed earlier down on the table, ignoring the insult.

"I don't know what kind of crap you tried to feed Johnson, but you're not leaving this room until you tell me what really happened."

Remus sat back in his chair, trying to keep his temper under control.

"I was completely honest in my statement."

"And vague," the Auror growled.

"What needs clarification?" Remus asked.

"You claimed you were at the Turn-Up Club last night?"

Remus nodded.

"Did anyone see you?"

"Hundreds of people, I expect, it's a big club. You should stop by sometime. They put on an…unforgettable show."

"Who were you there with?"

"I already told Auror Johnson. I was with a muggle friend of mine, and since a muggle's word is worth even less then my own, I'm not going to drag her into this."

"How noble of you," the Auror said. "So you heard Auror Tonks and the muggle woman screaming and went to help?"

Lupin nodded.

"And you thought unforgivables were appropriate? You thought you were justified in killing those men?"

"I didn't kill any of those," Lupin struggled for a moment, "-men. I used only stunning curses and a few blasting hexes to convince them it was time to leave."

"So you just frightened away a mob of what you claimed were Death Eaters. The corpses must have happened by later."

"I didn't kill anyone. You've got my wand. Check it."

"We have _a_ wand."

"Tonks can confirm what I've told you."

"But your Ministry required tracking charm says you were elsewhere."

Remus did his best to look surprised, then shrugged.

"Where did the charm say I was?"

"Apparently, you were and still are in your place of legal residence in Nottingham."

Remus shrugged again. "The Ministry applied an untested charm. I'm not terribly surprised its not working. That seems rather beside the point though, since Tonks can confirm my story."

"If Auror Tonks had confirmed your story, then why are you still here?"

"I'd put my money on ministry prejudice, if I had any money," Lupin said.

Still he was worried. Tonks must have been worse off then he initially thought if she hadn't gotten him out of this by now. It was also possible Dumbledore had told her to steer clear.

"Does the poor little werewolf think its being mistreated?"

"The poor little werewolf is getting bored actually. Aren't there more pressing tasks you could be applying your time and valuable Auror skill too? Hunting down Voldemort perhaps?"

The Auror jumped visible when Remus said the name.

"So what do you know about You-know-who?"

"Born Tom Riddle, went to Hogwarts, decided to start a genocidal war against a group that he's a member of? That's who we're talking about?"

"You seem to know a lot about him,"

"And you seem to know disturbingly little for an Auror who is supposed to be hunting down Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"Are you implying the Aurors are incompetent?" the man shouted in Remus' face, slamming his fists down on the table.

"I thought I had stated it rather plainly, actually."

Two men stood on the other side of the transparent wall. The tall, dark-skinned man stood by the magical monitoring equipment taking notes. The blond man sat in a chair by the wall, staring in and chewing his toothpick. It had looked as if the mood amplifier was working. If the werewolf lost his temper and took a swing at Coreman, or even shouted something threatening, they'd be able to keep him in custody indefinitely, but aside from a few insults and a bit of sarcasm, the werewolf had a surprising amount of self-control. Coreman was close to doing something regrettable, however. Johnson waved his wand at the contraption above his head, turning off the mood amplifier.

"The righteous anger monitor is going off the scale, but we haven't caught him in one outright lie yet," Shacklebolt said.

"Yes, but the half-truth detectors have gone off several times," Johnson said, paging through the transcript of the interrogation.

"I don't think this is worth our time," Shacklebolt said, "But if you want to go to Veritaserum, feel free to start the paperwork."

Coreman sighed. "Alright, I'm getting sick of this too. We'll let Coreman wind down then send the werewolf to the lock up for a few more hours, let him go at the end of the shift with a fine."

"Works for me," said Shacklebolt. "What have we got next?"

"DMLE needs help tracking down a couple of muggles that slipped past the obliviators during a Death Eater raid this morning. Why do those guys always have to leave such a mess? We'll be tracking down third cousins in Devon all afternoon."

Shacklebolt just shrugged.

* * *

Overall, babysitting wasn't that bad. McGonagall had taken the muggle girls back to London at a little past noon. Dumbledore left Marcus in Harry's care until his mother was released from Ministry custody. He'd taken the kid on a walk by the lake, and they'd thrown rocks at the giant squid for about an hour. Then they'd wandered around the castle, well away from the dungeons, until a painting told Harry that he had to return to the headmaster's office. He hadn't seen Ron or Hermione or anyone, so as soon as he'd dropped off Marcus he ran at top speed for the dungeons, hoping that the map had just been dismissed as old parchment and ignored as litter.

He retraced his steps, eyes darting hopefully to every scrap of parchment he came across. He was forced to duck into side corridors and behind suits of armor several times to avoid being spotted by the dungeons' residents. He got all the way back to site of the previous night's altercation with no luck. _Maybe Filch found it again when he was cleaning_, Harry thought.

He searched the area one last time and then turned with slumped shoulders to leave.

"Missing something, Potter?" said Malfoy, stepping out from behind a suit of armor.

Harry glared at him. Malfoy had his wand out and was smirking like there was no tomorrow, but he didn't have the map in his hands. Harry's wand was in his own hand less then a second later.

"Not too bright of you coming down here all by yourself," Malfoy continued.

"I could say the same thing about you," Harry said, slowly sidestepping. "Goons taking the day off?"

"They're waiting further up the corridor actually, in case you make a run for it."

"Trying to start trouble, ferret face?" Harry asked, feeling a terrible anger well up inside him.

"You're the one lurking around outside my common room," Draco crowed.

"And yet, strangely enough, you've no witnesses."

Harry flicked his wrist and green sparks scattered across the dungeon floor, a few struck the hem of Draco's robes and began to smolder. For a moment the Slytherin boy looked frightened, perhaps remembering that Harry Potter had more then enough reasons to want him dead.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry stepped back and pointed his wand at the woman who shouted, belatedly realizing it was his head of house.

McGonagall stormed up to them glowering. "Detention, both of you! Need I remind you that wizards' duels are strictly prohibited on school grounds? Perhaps twenty points from each of your houses will help you remember? Get out of my sight, both of you!"

Harry had never heard McGonagall so angry before. He needed no extra prompting to hurry back to Gryffindor tower. As he hurried up the hall, he saw Malfoy scowling after him.

Minerva McGonagall tried to suppress another angry outburst as the two sixth years fled in opposite directions. She was forming the less then flattering theory that all of Potter's contact with the Dark Lord was starting to scramble his brain. _To allow himself to be goaded into a duel with a boy who'd tried to murder him once before…_

She knew why she was allowing herself to get so angry a Potter. She was trying to keep depression from settling in. Not that she would admit falling victim to either one of those emotions. Pomfrey had finally convinced the headmaster to transfer Snape to the mental ward at St. Mungo's.

Snape hadn't argued when they tried to explain it to him. Most likely because he still couldn't understand a single word they said. The strange babbling attempts at language had grown worse. Before, he had put words into sentences that didn't make any sense. Now he rarely produced an intelligible word. She was going to his rooms to pack a few personal items for him.

When he was her student all those years ago, she hadn't much cared for him. He was arrogant, aggressive, and cruel, but he was persistent in a way she could do nothing other then respect. She was rather ashamed of her own house's behavior towards him, but never let them chase him away. Now she would give her entire year's salary just to hear him call her students addlebrained halfwits.

"Whiskers," she said as she stood outside his door.

The deputy headmistress' override password unsealed Professor Snape's quarters. The room smelled awful, as usual. Hundreds of jars and baskets lined the shelves that lined the walls. Bits of plants and other…things were suspended from the ceiling, drying. A few long-brew potions were tending to themselves in the corner, but at least one had boiled dry. She disposed of that cauldron before moving on to his bedchamber. This room was just as packed with potions ingredients. She put a few changes of clothes into a suitcase for him, and searched the dresser and wardrobe for personal items. She wanted to find a photo album or the like, but nothing was forthcoming. She was a bit stunned at how impersonal his rooms were. He didn't have even a paperweight to personalize it. A bit frustrated, she took a jar containing a pickled salamander from the nightstand and put that in the case as well. She sealed the door behind her, wondering if they'd have reason to open it again.

* * *

"I can't find the map," Harry said, flopping down on the end of Ron's bed.

"What?" asked Ron looking up from the essays he and Neville were comparing.

"I can't find the map," Harry said.

"Where'd you have it last?" asked Neville.

"When we were getting Marcus away from Malfoy."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "You don't think he…"

"That git's been smirking about something all day," Ginny said, as she walked in the door. Hermione was following close behind. The first words out of her mouth were very predictable.

"We have to tell the Headmaster."

"We can't…"

"Harry! The Death Eaters have a map that tells them how to sneak into the school. We have to tell the Dumbledore this instant."

"How do we know Malfoy's handed it on yet?" Ron said. "His father will definitely end up with it, but you know he'll try to make the best of it before he gives it up."

"Maybe we can steal it back," Ginny suggested.

"How? He has the map! He'll see you coming! Not even Polyjuice potions can fool it. Harry, we have to tell," Hermione said.

"How would Malfoy even know how to use it?" Neville asked.

"I don't think I blanked it before I lost it," Harry said, hanging his head.

Ron shrugged. "So we'll just corner him after dinner and bounce his head off the wall until he gives it up."

Hermione glared. "That will not only lose you your prefect's badge, it will get you expelled! Besides, he's got more goons following him. It's not just Crabbe and Goyle, he has seven or eight Death Eaters' kids with him all the time now. I think we could overpower them," she said before Ron could interrupt, "But there's no way we could do it quietly."

"Can't we just summon it, like Harry did with his broom 4th year?" Neville said.

"Not if Malfoy's put the proper wards around it. We could try, though." Hermione raised her wand and the other four Gryffindors did the same.

"On three then?" Harry said. "One…two…three…"

"**Accio Marauder's Map**!" they cried together.

But after twenty minutes of waiting, no map had flitted its way up to Gryffindor tower.

"You know this is one of the few situations Professor Snape might have been able to help us with," Ginny said drearily as she put her wand away.

"I doubt that," Harry said. "I'll go tell Dumbledore."

"Wait!" said Neville.

He seemed surprised that he'd spoken, and then very nervous as the other four focused their attention on him.

"Hermione?" he asked, sounding more nervous every second.

"Yes?" she prompted encouragingly.

"Would you be able to charm the Owlery? Just until tomorrow so no one can send anything out?" he asked.

"The teachers would notice right away if I blocked up the windows to keep the owls from leaving. And if he does have the map, he'd notice us hanging about up there trying to intercept his mail." she said. Her gaze grew cloudy and thoughtful. "There must be a way around that though…hmmmm…I suppose I could spell the owls…yes! I could spell the owls to think they'd already delivered their mail once they get outside the wards. They'd come right back in, though that's bound to be noticed fairly quickly, too. That sort of charm is harder to take off, though."

"Is that it, Neville?" Ron asked.

Neville shook his head. "I…I…just need until Monday morning. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but if you can give me that long I think I can get it back."

"Oh Neville, you aren't going to do something dangerous, are you?" Hermione asked.

"No, it's just better if you don't know. Can't get in trouble for something you didn't know, right?" he said looking at his hands.

"Whatever it is, we can help you," Harry insisted.

Neville shook his head and got up. "No, I can do this. Just make sure the owls can't go." With that he rushed out the door and down the stairs.

"What do you think he's going to do?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, but we'd better get started on the owls."

Neville came back to the tower just after curfew, looking slightly flushed. His friends all looked at him expectantly, but he would say nothing except that they'd know in the morning. Harry spent the night unable to sleep. He knew the map showed only a little dot with a label, but he couldn't help but feel watched. He was rather afraid to go the bathroom. The worrying seemed for naught however. Harry, Neville, and Ron were greeted by a very pleasant sight when they arrived in the great hall for breakfast the next morning.

"I want my trunk back, Potter!" Malfoy growled.

"I haven't got it," Harry said, fighting the urge to smile at Neville.

"Don't play the fool with me, Potter! I know you have it!"

Malfoy was so angry his face was starting to turn off-white.

"Those are some serious allegations, Malfoy. We should go talk to the headmaster about this," said Ron, not bothering to hide his smirk at all.

"You won't get away with this, Potter!"

"I don't know about that, Malfoy. People are getting away with an awful lot these days," Harry said mildly. "Let's compare shall we? Attempted murder or missing trunk, that's a tough one. What do you think, Ron?"

Ron rested a thoughtful fist on his chin. "That is quite a conundrum."

"As if you know what that means, Weasley!" Malfoy said, regaining his composure. "If you want to go about it that way, I don't really care, but it's on your own head if something in that trunk disagrees with you."

He and his entourage swept past them down the stairs, heading for the dungeons. When the Slytherins were well gone Harry turned to Neville.

"Has anything strange come out of the trunk?"

Neville shook his head. "I haven't opened it. I've got to go check on something; I'll catch up with you in Defense."

He turned and ran out of the hall.

Neville skidded to a stop outside the library. Verdad sat at a desk across from the entrance, half hidden behind a shelf. Quite a few Slytherins were scattered about the entrance as well, so he couldn't approach her directly. He saw Madam Pince at her desk, peering at the students suspiciously, and a less than classy plan formed in his mind.

He dug through his bag until he found a few empty sweet wrappers. He palmed them and then entered. He walked past Verdad's desk, not looking at her. She didn't seem to notice the garbage he scattered under her seat. He noted the book she was going over. _Carnivorous Cacti_. He wandered the shelves for several minutes before returning.

"Excuse me," Neville said politely.

Verdad glared up at him and several other Slytherins turned to watch.

"I need to check something in that book for an essay I'm writing. Could I borrow it for just five minutes?"

"Up yours, griffindork."

A few of her housemates snickered. Neville shrugged and walked up to Madam Pince's desk. The Slytherins watched him go, exchanging suspicious glances. Neville leaned over the librarian's desk and, in a carrying whisper said "Excuse me, but I thought you should know, that girl over there is eating."

The librarian sprang from her seat as if someone had set fire to her undergarments. She stormed across the room to Verdad's desk and upon seeing the sweet wrappers scattered about her, tossed her from the library and sent her book bag flying after her. Neville picked up the copy of _Carnivorous Cacti_ that had been left behind and took it to the circulation desk. As he walked out with the book, all the Slytherins present glared, and a few even bothered to hiss threats. He felt Verdad shadowing him and ducked down an empty corridor.

"That was a cute little stunt," she growled in his ear.

He jumped and turned, thinking he may have gone a bit to far, but she was smiling at him.

"I didn't think you had it in you," she continued.

He fought the urge to blush. "I-I-I had to talk to you. We just ran into Malfoy. He's been going on about some booby trap he'd put in his trunk."

Verdad rolled up her sleeve. "It was a nasty piece of $#! I'll give him that." Her right hand was blistered with burns and her wrist was covered in welts. "The whole thing went up like a &#'en torch when I opened it."

She swung her bookbag around and started going through the pockets, finally pulling out a singed scrap of parchment about the size of her palm. Neville took it, heart sinking. He recognized the front gates of Hogwarts, where a tiny dot labeled Rubeus Hagrid wandered back and forth on some unknown labor. He could see the front door of the school, the great hall, and a bit of the astronomy tower. But the rest of the castle and grounds were gone.

"Sorry love. I conjured water, but that didn't put it out. It's a real shame. That map must have been all kinds of useful."

Neville nodded mutely. Harry was going to be heartbroken. But at least Malfoy no longer had it.

"Is your arm ok? Do you need me to get you something from the hospital wing?"

"No, its fine."

"Thank you for…you know. Sorry about you arm. I didn't think…"

"No worries. I've got the fact that Galleons don't burn to console me."

* * *

They hadn't given him his own room, but he had a curtain at least. As soon as the annoyingly cheerful nurse left, he closed them and lay down on his bed. She'd been pestering him for the last half hour, and though he had no idea what she'd actually said he was certain it was condescending and pointless. She'd gone down the rows of beds to the other patients who warranted a curtain. He recognized them, the woman and the man. He knew their son as well, but he could not produce their names. They wouldn't answer him, even if he did.

He looked to the small dresser into which they had unpacked his suitcase. A jar containing a pickled salamander sat on top of it under the "safe" lamp. He thought perhaps it was someone's idea of a joke. He reached over and turned the jar in the light, staring into the tiny beast's clouded eyes. The shriek was cut off almost instantly, but it was enough of a shock that the jar slipped through his fingers.

He got to his feet and pushed open the curtain. Glass crunched under his slippers and the pickling fluid soaked through. The nurse lay slumped across her desk. Snape didn't respond as they marched up between the rows of beds. He did not respond when they said his name and ordered him to move. He recognized the voices, Nott and Welling and the new recruit Felltown. He was dragged to the center of the roomwithout protest. They said something else, but he could not even begin to guess what. Nott took out a portkey and placed his hand on it. Snape mimicked him.

As the magic looped around him and dragged him from the hospital, a thought struggled to form in his mind. He knew they were taking him somewhere he'd been before, and that he was unlikely return. He knew his life would be significantly shortened if they pried their way into the jumbled mind he was unable to defend. He could not make himself care. Perhaps that required words.


End file.
